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ladymunson · 1 month

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One 18+

Fic summary: Bucky struggles with his feelings toward you, which he hides by pretending he doesn’t trust you. You get placed on a mission together where trust is essential.

A/N: sorry if this is all over the place, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so this might be a jumbled mess. Enjoy though!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f rec), fingering, language, unprotected p in v, kissing, heavy petting.

Word count: 5.3k

Not proofread and no beta (apologies for any mistakes)

I do NOT consent to my work being copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

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Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics and thank you to @jijilaufeyson for helping me make a decision.

“Are you serious?!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “I’ve been with SHIELD for three years, I can do this mission by myself. I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes, you do.” Bucky sneers, you turn your head towards him and glare.

“I hate to agree with Barnes but he’s right, I think you still need someone to keep an eye on you. Your ex was HYDRA after all.” Tony says, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You throw your head back in frustration, they’re never going to forget about him.

Three years ago, you had come back to the apartment you shared with you boyfriend of two years to find the place swarming with HYDRA agents. He had been assigned to you to eventually recruit you to HYDRA after they had discovered your abilities.

You’d always been able to sense how someone was feeling by just being near them and eventually it had morphed into being able to influence their emotions. You could walk into a party or a meeting and know exactly who to look out for, whether it be because they were vulnerable or someone with ill intention.

It took immense concentration, effort and energy to be able to change someone’s emotions without touching them. Which you always try and avoid, you don’t want to change someone unintentionally, you could ruin things for them. So, you manage to keep your emotions in check most of the time, and don’t accidentally influence anyone.

The moment you realised that Russell was HYDRA, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but they weren’t going to let you go without a fight. Luckily, you’d befriended the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, when you’d met her and Wanda Maximoff one night at a local dive bar after Russ had blown you off again. One text to her and they’d both been at your door and helped you get away from the agents and back to the safety of Avengers Tower where you’d been subjected to an intense interrogation from Tony Stark, Cliff Barton and Bucky Barnes.

You’d thought that after all the years spent training and fighting by their sides, they would trust you by now, but obviously they don’t. Or more specifically; Bucky doesn’t. Cliff had decided you were trustworthy the first time he interrogated you and had told them as much, but Bucky wasn’t hearing it. So here you were three whole years later, still deemed untrustworthy by the Winter Soldier of all people.

“You know what…?” You start and Bucky smirks at you, adding more fuel to the fire. “I’m glad you’re doing the recon alone, gives me time to pack.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “This is my last mission, I’m done. I quit!” You turn on your heel and leave the conference room without another word.

Bucky groans and places both hands on the table in front of him, flesh beside vibranium, and hangs his head.

“Well that went well Barnes.” Tony says as he walks over to the door. “Looks like I have to do damage control.” He points at Bucky. “You find something on that recon and figure out a way to fix this. We can’t lose her.” And leaves the room, the glass door swinging back and forth.

Bucky makes a fist and slams it down on the table in front of him. “Fuck!”

You stalk down the hallway, heading to your room, walking past everyone and ignoring them all as they try talking to you. Natasha notices and follows you to your room, the doors are automated so you can’t even slam it to let out your frustration. So, you throw your self face down on your bed and scream into the comforter. Natasha just stands by the door, not saying anything and waits for you to finish your screaming.

“Feel better?” She asks as you flip yourself over to lay on your back.

“I can’t believe he still doesn’t trust me! Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, I quit.” You say without looking in her direction.

“You didn’t quit.” Natasha says as she walks over to join you on your bed.

“I did, straight to Bucky and Tony’s faces. Both of them looked shocked but I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking done!” You say as you jump off the bed and begin going through your closet and putting clothes in a suitcase.

The one thing you want, is to have Bucky’s trust…. Okay there’s something you want more than his trust, but you’re never going to get it. If he doesn’t trust you to be member of his team, there’s no way he’s going to trust you in any sort of relationship. So rather than trying anymore, you’ve picked the nuclear option. Serves him right!

“Buck…?” Steve says as he walks into the conference room where Bucky is still hunched over the table. “What’s going on?”

“What is wrong with me Steve? Why can’t I trust people?”

“You mean y/n?” Steve asks. Bucky groans. “Buck, I think it’s obvious to everyone except you and y/n that you like her.” Bucky looks up at Steve. “In a romantic way.”

Bucky stammers, “N... no I don’t.” Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks at Bucky.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since she joined SHEILD, hell you haven’t even on a date in a year. You like her.”

“You’re right Steve, I do. But… She quit.” Bucky says as his head hangs head.

“What did you do? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Fix it!” Steve says and leaves the room.

You and Bucky avoid each other for the next week, but to be fair he was out doing recon for the mission with Sam, who had been ribbing him about his feelings for you and pissing Bucky off. They had however, been able to meet the mark and started integrating themselves into his world. Your role as Bucky’s girl would come later, and you couldn’t help feeling like he was ruining your chances to prove yourself. You could’ve done the getting to know the mark and maybe brought Bucky or Sam or even Steve in as your man later on.

You hated to admit it but their getting to know him first was the better plan as not many women were in that world.

The mark. Carlo Vizzini is the head of an organised crime syndicate, who deals stolen HYDRA and SHIELD weapons and technology to other members of the syndicate. The goal is to find the times and locations of all the shipments being brought into the city, finding a list of buyers would be the icing on the cake but it isn’t a priority.

Bucky’s role is to present himself as someone new to the area who wants to become a member of the syndicate. FRIDAY has come up with an elaborate backstory for the two of you, created entire histories for you both which you’ve spent the last week reviewing and learning. Your backstory isn’t too far away from your real story, so it isn’t hard to memorise. The problem is pretending to be his girl. How can you possibly work together and be convincing if it’s obvious to everyone that he doesn’t trust you. There has to be a reason why Tony suggested Bucky for the mission and not Steve, you don’t know what it is, not that you care because you won’t be around once this mission is completed.

The story. You and Bucky have moved to New York from Michigan, where was a mid level HYDRA agent who oversaw a warehouse that contained new tech. The place had been breached while he was attending a HYDRA event with you, and they had fired him for allowing the breach to happen (An actual event orchestrated by Vizzini).

You had been together for five years at the point you’re at, and Tony had decided to add the fact that you were recently engaged. So, you had to wear an obnoxiously huge diamond on your left ring finger, which really bugged you. You had both been set up in a brownstone in Brooklyn, sleeping in separate rooms but having to appear all lovey dovey in case you were being watched.

Four weeks later.

Carlo Vizzini has invited Bucky and you to an event hosted at his mansion in the Hamptons, where you will both be introduced to other syndicate members. So, you need a spa day and shopping trip where you can buy a dress for the event and be seen out and about acting like this is a normal occurrence. Tony has also arranged for someone from Tiffany to show up at your house and lend you some jewellery for the event as you’re a simple teeny hoop earring kind of girl.

You find the perfect dress while browsing online so it’s very easy to go and get it without having to actually search in store. Scratch that, Natasha found the dress for you and told you it would be a crime if you didn’t wear it.

The idea is to infiltrate the syndicate event, find the intel and get out without your cover being blown until the weapons and tech have been recovered. If your covers can last beyond that until the entire syndicate has been taken down, that’s even better.

So, you’ve been to the salon and had your hair done and are heading back to the brownstone when you notice the dark SUV you spotted outside the mall had parked across the road and the occupant was crossing over to you. You play it off like you haven’t noticed, a civilian wouldn’t have and that’s who you are for the foreseeable future.

“Excuse me? Y/N” The stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Yes? You answer, turning to face the person who has spoken to you.

“I’m sorry, I work for someone your boyfriend is trying to get into business with and he’s asked me to check that you out.”

You chuckle, “Fiancé.” The stranger looks confused. “He’s my fiancé, not my boyfriend. Does Mr Vizzini think we haven’t done the same the same to him? Can’t be too careful these days, too many con men around, especially in New York.”

The stranger seems a little taken aback by your words, but continues, like his job is at stake. “I have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. “Okay?”

He takes a picture out of his jacket and asks. “Who is this man?”

The picture is of Sam Wilson, the Falcon but you answer, “That is Sam, James’s brother, adopted of course. “

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years, engaged for one. Are we done here? I have to get ready for a party.” You say and turn to the steps of your brownstone, heading up to your front door.

“One more question.” You turn to face him again. “Can I use your bathroom?” You sigh and open the door, directing him the right way and stay in the hallway so he doesn’t sneak anywhere else for a snoop. You hear the cistern flush and the squeak of the faucet, but you also hear the sound of the medicine cabinet being opened. Yep, he’s snooping. A few moments later he steps out of the bathroom and thanks you as he leaves your house.

You head straight into the kitchen and start the coffee machine; you then grab a detector out of the kitchen drawer and head into the bathroom. Using it to detect for a bug, which you find in the cupboard under the sink and leave it there. You have a get out your phone and send a message, one you’ve prearranged with Bucky, telling him about the bug.

‘Can’t wait to see your reaction when you see what I have on under my dress (followed) tonight. You’re not gonna be able to keep your cool or your hands (Suspicious) to yourself’

‘New lingerie?” (Bug?)

‘Maybe (yes), but you’re gonna have to wait and see’

‘Can’t wait’ (Understood)

You’re gonna have to start your charade earlier than anticipated and act like a real couple. I suppose there are worse things in life than pretending to be in a relationship with Bucky. You can’t deny that the dude is hot.

You pretend to use the bathroom by slowly pouring a bottle of water in the toilet, flushing and washing your hands. Then you head back into the kitchen to pour yourself a coffee.

Bucky arrives home a short while later, carrying a bouquet of roses (Sam’s idea) and gives you a kiss. You feel a little twinge in your stomach, feeling his lips on yours. His kiss is light and sweet.

Feeling your lips on his sends a thrill through Bucky, the feelings he’s been trying to hide for years bubbling to the surface and he has to stop himself deepening the kiss.

“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen babe, I’m going to start getting ready. No peeking!” You say and head upstairs.

Bucky stays downstairs to drink a coffee and makes a few phone calls, all in character of course, before heading upstairs to get into his tux which takes only a few minutes. He’s back in the living room in less than ten minutes, waiting for you join him.

Bucky isn’t downstairs for very long before he hears your heels on the upper landing and stands up to greet you but at seeing you, his breath hitches in his throat.

(This is the dress you wear)

“You’re fucking stunning!” Bucky breathes out, causing you to grin.

“Not too bad yourself James.” You reply as you walk down the stairs and take his outstretched hand.

You arrive at the house in the Hamptons, impressed with the size of the place, hanging on to Bucky’s arm. The size of it is really impressive and you live in Avengers Tower.

Bucky thinks that he must thank Natasha for picking out that dress. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. Bucky knows he needs to remain professional, but he really wants to get his hands on you and bring you pleasure like you’ve never known. He won’t have any problem pretending to be your lover tonight, because that’s the only thing he wants.

The party is in full swing an hour later, you’ve mingled with everyone, hanging on Bucky’s arm, acting like he’s your entire world. And to him, you are his world. It’s not acting, he’s crazy about you and has been since you met.

Another forty-five minutes go by with the both of you all over each other, giving you a reason to sneak off at some point, to find the intel you’re there to get.

Bucky’s arm is around your waist, holding you close to him as you leave the “ballroom” where the party is. You’re acting the part really well, practically hanging off of him, hands wandering. Walking down the hallway, still all over each other, opening doors looking for a place to have some privacy. Some rooms are all occupied, but the one you’re looking for is empty, Vizzini’s office. As soon as you’re in the room and you part ways, straight back to business, heading for his desk and turning on his computer. Plugging a USB drive you take off of your bracelet into it, and copying the files.

“Heads up Buck, Carlo is on his way and he’s not alone.” Sam says over comms. The last file copies just in time, and you attach the USB back to the bracelet and walk back around the desk.

“Shit!” Bucky says. “We’re gonna get caught!”

Your brain works quickly, “I have an idea, but you have to trust me.” You say as you switch the computer off.

Bucky nods. “Okay.” You pull him over to the wall beside the door and lean against it. You reach up under your dress and remove your underwear, Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his head. You throw your panties in the vicinity of the desk and reach down to undo Bucky’s pants. “What are you doing?!” He asks.

“I told you to trust me, I’ll get us out of this.” You unbutton his slacks and bunch up your skirt a little. “Lift me.” You instruct. Bucky catches on and lifts you, so your legs are wrapped around his waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Go with it okay?” You say. Bucky gulps but nods and your lips meet in a searing kiss that makes you both moan out loud into each others' mouths. His hips begin to move instinctively, playing the part of a man who can’t keep his hands off of his girl. Bucky feels an usual sensation, kind of like a happiness he’s never felt before. As quick as he feels it, it goes away again.

You’re moaning loudly, alternating between passionate kisses and heavy breathing when Vizzini opens the door to his office and “catches” you, entering the room with two burly bodyguards. You gasp and fake panic.

“What the…?” He exclaims, his eyes bogging out of his head before he composes himself and continues. “This is my office, not a motel room!” You giggle. “This is not a laughing matter young lady, this is very inappropriate behaviour!” Bucky lifts you and places your heeled feet back on the floor and helps you rearrange your dress before tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

“We’re sorry Mr Vizzini, but when your girl looks like this, you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.” Bucky says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“But this is my office!” Vizzini says, exasperatedly.

“We’re sorry but other rooms were occupied!” You say with a smirk. Vizzini nods and the two bodyguards rush out of the room, they return moments later, both red faced.

Vizzini nods again and turns to you. “We will not mention this again and our meeting Tuesday will go ahead.” Vizzini says. Before sitting at his desk and making a choked sound. “I think these belong to you.” He says, pointing to the black lace panties that had landed on the keyboard of his computer. You giggle and retrieve them from his desk, biting your lip as you do.

“Sorry again!” You giggle as Bucky wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the office. You head back to the party, makes it seem less like obvious that you’re involved in espionage.

You both carry on playing the devoted couple, you’re hanging off of him like someone who can’t get enough of their man. Sneaking kisses here and there, selling the bit. Vizzini reappears a little while later and blushes when you and he make eye contact, you smirk back at him and pull Bucky in for a kiss. It’s after midnight by the time your car has pulled up outside and you’ve said your goodbyes.

You’re still all over each other as you get into the car, smiling and waving to everyone as the car pulls away. You keep the act up until you’re on your way out of the Hamptons and on the free way before you separate, in case you were followed. You stay close to each other just so you can snap back together quickly if you noticed someone watching you or for when you get back to the brownstone that is your “residence” at least until this mission is over.

You can smell Bucky’s cologne and it’s been invading your nostrils since you walked down the stairs before leaving in the early evening. It’s lingering on your skin from how you’ve been all over each other all night. You recognise it as Sauvage, one of your absolute favourites. You can’t remember Bucky ever wearing it before, he’s usually a Hugo Boss guy, which is another of your favourites. You momentarily let your control slip (not for the first time this evening) and imagine what it would be like, to have Bucky’s affections and let happiness bloom inside you, but you stop it as soon as you feel it reaching your face.

Bucky has put so much effort into hiding how he feels, he feels like he’s suffocating right now. He feels something again, like a happiness that he’s never felt before. But it disappeared as quickly as he feels it. The truth is drowning him and he needs to tell you how he feels, the thought actually terrifies him though. What if you reject him? What if you don’t feel the same way?

He needs to talk to Steve, find out how to approach this because he can’t lose you before he’s even had you. The car pulls up to your brownstone and you both get out, his arm around your shoulders as you head up the steps. “I need to go run a quick errand I’ll be back soon, wait up for me?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, baby, I’ll see you when you get back.” You reply with a kiss on the lips, smiling at him as you unlock the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself and leaning against the door with a sigh.

Bucky runs to the bodega on the corner and uses their pay phone, making sure that he’s concealed before dialling.

“Hello…?” Steve answers on the fourth ring, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“How do I tell her? After everything, what do I say?” Bucky’s words are rushed out, not even telling Steve that it’s him.

Steve lets out a sigh. “Buck, just say what you feel. Honestly is the best policy. She needs to know what you feel is real and not because of what you’re both living right now. Open up, I think she will be more open than you expect. I’m going back to sleep now.” Steve hangs up and Bucky is more determined than ever.

He grabs a bottle of wine and some other items so it looks like he had a legit reason to be in the bodega, pays and heads back to your brownstone.

He unlocks the door, you’re not in the living room when he gets back so he quickly takes off the jacket of his tux and goes into the kitchen and puts the items he bought away. Bucky rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up his arms, grabs two glasses and opens the wine then heads upstairs.

You’re in your bedroom, you’ve taken off your dress and are wearing a short black silk robe. He walks in with the wine and goes to speak but the words die in his throat. He takes a deep breath and closes the door, you raise an eyebrow but take one of the wine glasses off of him as he pours the red wine into it. He pours his own, puts the bottle down and takes a big gulp from his glass.

“We need to talk.” The words rush out with his breath.

“About what?” You reply.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, looking straight in your eyes. “I act like I don’t trust you because it’s easier than admitting the truth, but the truth is what you deserve so here goes…” You look at him expectantly. Bucky takes another deep breath before he continues. “I like you and I have since we met, and it scared me because I’ve never caught feelings that quickly before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings like I have for you, with anyone. I think I…” he stops himself.

“You think you what?” You nudge.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You look into his eyes and the cerulean blue shows nothing but sincerity. He means it. He loves you. You contemplate telling him how you feel but actions speak louder than words.

You walk to Bucky, standing in front of him. You lick your lips he looks into your eyes, searching for hesitation and finding none. He reaches out for you, his hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. His lips brush yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You look into each others eyes and you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him closer and planting a firm kiss on his lips.

Your lips feel like they were made to kiss his, they slot together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. He sighs contentedly as your lips open to allow his tongue access, your tongues dance together, caressing each other as your bodies get even closer.

Something snaps in Bucky and he pulls you towards him, walking backwards until he’s against the wall. He spins you around and pushes you against the wall, breaking the kiss and leaving you panting for breath.

“I need you to say that you want this, please say you want this. I can’t bear one more moment without touching you.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“I want it, I want you.” You say and reach out for him again. He kisses you sweetly, pulls back and sinks to his knees. He plants a kiss on the inside of your knee which makes you shudder. “Fuck!” You moan out as his mouth kisses up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your centre. Bucky lifts your robe and groans out loud, noticing that you never replaced the underwear you removed in Vizzini’s office. He grabs your knee and lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder and moving his mouth to your mound, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. “Holy shit!!” You moan out and grab Bucky’s head with one hand and scratching at the wall with the other.

Bucky groans at your taste and begins to practically make out with your pussy, his eyes glassed over as your juices drip down his chin. His uses two fingers on his flesh hand and teases your hole, gathering your slick until he can sink them into you, straight to the knuckle. He’s eating you with such fierce ferocity and fucking you with his fingers so passionately that your orgasm builds quickly. “I’m not gonna last much longer.. I’m gonna…” a long moan escapes your lips as your orgasm washes over you. You shudder and shake, struggling to breathe as you ride the waves of your climax, your cunt pulsating around his fingers.

Bucky’s oral ministrations slow as your orgasm dies down, and your breathing returns to normal. He removes his fingers and your leg from his shoulder, stands and unbuttons his shirt before removing it and using it to wipe his face. He stands there in a white vest, his face flushed and looks at you adoringly. Bucky undoes your robe and lets it fall off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bra. You reach out and undo his pants, pushing them down leaving him in just a pair of black boxers. You can see his erection straining the fabric, you want nothing more than to take what you can tell is an impressive member out of his underwear and show him how good your head game is. Bucky however has other ideas.

“Take off the bra, please. I need to see all of you.” He says, his eyes still glassy. You oblige and he groans out loud, he steps forward and pushes you against the wall again. He takes your left breast in his hand and massages gently, causing you to arch into him. He lowers his head and takes your nipple in his mouth, circling the tight bud with his tongue. Bucky stops and plants a searing kiss on your mouth, it’s sloppy, full of teeth and tongues. He pushes his underwear down as you’re kissing, depriving your view.

You still don’t get a glimpse as he grabs your ass and lifts you, your legs automatically going around his waist as you continue your assault on each others' mouths, it’s like you can’t get enough. Bucky breaks off the kiss as he looks into your eyes, the both of you are heavy breathing already. “Ready?” He asks, you nod. “Words baby.”

“Yes please!” You feel the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering as much of your creamy slick as he can. Before notching inside you, your eyes roll back in your head as he slides into your wet cunt, painstakingly slowly. He wants you to feel every inch, every vein, the way he throbs for you. Once he bottoms out in you, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Your arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. You’ve never felt so full, so… complete. There’s a slight sting and burn, you can only assume but there’s a very good chance that he’s big and girthy.

Bucky plants a kiss on your lips before he begins to move, sliding out of you, almost completely before sinking into you again. The air is knocked from your lungs, you feel amazing as his cock slides in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. You moan out loud at the sensation.

“Faster!” You groan out, frustrated at how slow he’s fucking you.

“All in good time, I need to feel you.” Bucky moans out, but pretty soon he can’t just revel in the feeling. He needs to move faster, chasing his end. His hips snap up quicker and your moaning increases in volume, that heat in your belly building again with each thrust of his hips.

Bucky takes your mouth again, kissing you with all of him as he fucks into you with abandon. Your moans and tongues intertwined, your heavy breathing entering each others' mouths. Your hands carding through Bucky’s hair, tugging gently on the strands at the nape of his neck. Each time you do it makes his hips thrust harder and makes him grunt. But you have to stop after a minute as the heat blooming in your belly expands more until it can go no further.

It snaps and blooms upward and downward, sending heat to your toes and making you see white. Your climax makes your head roll back and you let out a scream of pleasure. There’s a new sensation as your orgasm hits, the feeling of white-hot heat spreading through him. Happiness, love, every positive feeling ever shoots through him and the spasms of your cunt around his cock, prematurely sets off his orgasm. He has wanted to draw another two or three from you before his end but he can’t hold it back.

He roars out, even the way your climax muffled your hearing you heard him. You’ve never heard anything like that, the sound was primal, animalistic. Your breathing slows and you lower your head to look at him, he’s staring back at you, looking completely fucked out, but so do you.

“You okay baby?” Bucky asks, breathing heavily and pulling your face towards him so he can kiss you. You can’t even speak, you just about nod before he lifts you off the wall and carries you over to the bed. He lays you down and pulls his semi-hard cock out of you, which makes you whine. He goes into your en suite and grabs a washcloth to clean you up, before joining you on the bed. He pulls you close and you snuggle into his warm body, your hand rests on his chest, just above his heart.

Happiness blooms in his chest once more, a content feeling. He realises that you’re projecting onto him with your abilities but you’re too out of it to realise. The feeling is one of pureness, a feeling of love. Bucky realises he has had this feeling before, many times, the first time was the day he met you. He really did feel love at first sight, he didn’t think it was possible but it happened. And now you both knew how the other felt, there’s no way he was going to go back to the way it was. And you’re not leaving SHIELD. Not unless he leaves with you, because from now on, you are one.

THE END?

Posted 23/04/2024

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #ladymunson #Bucky Barnes x female reader #18+ only

836 notes · View notes

redr0sewrites · 2 months

Note

One thing I can't help but feel a Sub!Vox would unexpectedly enjoy is getting reminded/teased about the fact he has a safe word he can use.

Like, beyond just the safe, practical etiquette of double checking and making sure everything's still okay, in the scenario that he absolutely is still okay: You got him so worked up, overstimulated, repeatedly sobbing out "I can't"s, only to have you sweetly cut in with a sweet "Do you need to use the safe word~?" (Or any other possible non-verbal "STOP" sign that got agreed upon), and having that answer be "No."

Him getting faced with the fact that he can so, so, so easily have anything that's happening to him stop, should he so wish it, and yet, despite all his whining and begging and crying, he's actively choosing not to have it stop.

Him just getting so flustered by that paradox of him being reminded that he's in complete control over having no control~

YESSSSSS AUGHGHH I NEED TO PAMPER HIM‼️

🥀Cw: smut, sub!vox, safeword mentioned, overstim, not proofread bc i am both sick and tired im so sorry

🥀minors dni

once vox is in subspace, he really is a mess- drooling, moaning, whimpering, clawing at the sheets, and most obviously, crying

to most people this would give the impression that he wants to stop, but in reality, vox very very rarely uses the safeword but fuuuck it is SUCH a turn on for him that the opportunity is there

we all know he has a power kink, and he's so obviously in a submissive position during sex, but the fact that you're the one allowing him to stop if he needs to? it gets to his head

it also opens the door to his humiliation kink, bc nothing turns him on more than being humiliated. the fact that he could so, so easily quit, just walk out and be out of the embarrassing, submissive position he's in but instead he finds himself wanting to be wrecked- more than wrecked, downright ruined by you when he could so easily walk away. the entire situation is exhilarating and arousing to him

he also adores it when you use it mockingly, if you start cooing "aww, poor baby, do y'need to tap out already? gonna use the safeword sweetie?" he's already babbling, pleading with you to keep going, how he's being suuuuch a good boy! and then? well, he's rambling on and on about how he can't stop yet, how he needs to cum! how could you deny him?

vox takes punishments well, but will brat out the whole time, whimpering and whining about how he can't take it. however, the second you threaten to stop, or offer the safeword? he's putty in your hands, drooling and clawing at the sheets, practically begging you to keep going. its the quickest way to get him to completely submit to you without even another word!

vox isn't used to relinquishing control in general, so the power dynamics proposed by the safeword honestly make him trust you even more. even outside of the bedroom, it flusters him when you ask before touching him or when you ask about sex instead of just initiating.

when it comes to softer sex, vox also likes to be reminded of the safeword! sometimes he's just so stressed out that he just wants to be pampered, but he reaches a point where his mind gets so fuzzy he just can't stop :( he's mewling and whining as you ride him, tears streaming down his screen as you praise him, and he doesn't realize how far gone he is until you gently remind him he can tap out whenever he needs to. vox will nod, eyes watery and face flushed, and soon he becomes more aware of just how sleepy he is. he always makes sure you both cum one more time before tapping out, but i can also see him having a bit of a somnophilia kink, so he would probably consent to letting you fuck him in his sleep, with the promise of the safeword still being valid

i mentioned this before in the dry humping hcs, but sometimes, vox will get so needy and horny that he just can't stop, so the reminder of the safeword is often very useful when he's too far gone to communicate but is like 2 seconds away from passing out. but sometimes he likes to be pushed to the edge too, so he won't always use the safeword but gets off on the fact that the option is there

also tiny additional hc, i think he would like to use a meaningful word for a safeword. maybe something related to technology, like radio or something, or possibly electric. like if he started saying electric, it would mean he wanted to stop. or i think he would use a color system, you would ask him what color and he'd say red green or yellow depending on how into it he is or how he's feeling etc etc. either way he wants it to be meaningful and not just some random word- like he wants a sentimental reasoning behind whatever word you choose (feel free to comment safeword ideas so i can use them in future fics 👹)

vox lets out a wanton moan, glitching and panting as he humps your thigh like a dog in heat. he's writhing under your touch, unsure of where to put his hands when all he can focus on is the pressure against his painfully hard cock. its sinful the way he drags his hips, mewling deliriously as he creams in his pants for what feels like the hundreth time, and yet his pace doesn't falter as he ruts against you. he's a panting mess and barely coherent and he babbles, whimpering your name over and over. "fuc- zzz -k, 'm so- ple-zzz-" vox gasps, thighs shaking as you wrap your arms around his neck. his cock throbs when you make eye contact with him and his thighs squeeze around yours. a stain darkens the front of his pants, leftover from his previous release in his dazed rut. "vox," you coo, rubbing the ports on the back of his screen as he struggles to remain coherent enough to focus on your words. "vox, baby, do you need the safeword?" your voice is sickeningly sweet, laced with concern and lust.

vox paused at the thought, dread seeping into his body as he let out a pathetic whine. "nno, 'm fine," he slurred, rolling his hips against your thigh. "m not even tired," he mewls deliriously, and you nod, taking notice of his drooping eyelids and slowing movements. "okay sweetie, only one more round though, okay?" vox nods, tears streaming down his screen as his claws dig into the plush of your hips. you steady him, and you move your leg, assisting him in grinding against you as you shake your thigh. vox whimpers, static lacing his voice as he glitches out entirely. repeating your name like a prayer, his body tenses as he cums fast and hard, soaking his pants yet again. vox collapses against you, breathing ragged as he struggled to keep his eyelids from drooping. "you okay, baby?" you purr, and he nods, slumping deeper into your touch. "lets get you cleaned up, hm?"

UWRGJREHHEHEHEHE I AM ALWAYS IN THE MOOD FOR SUB VOX!!!!!!!!!! i love the idea of being soft w him sm- i genuinely have not written enough sfw stuff for vox so if anyone has anything fluffy to say ab him PLEASE come into my inbox. ALSO IF ANYONE HAS ANYTHING LUTE RELATED TO SAY ESPECIALLY/INCLUDING SMUT ALSO PLS COME INTO MY INVOX BC RUEGRHRGRHGR THEYRE BOTH MY FAVS RN

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haystarlight · 4 months

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What if mlp characters had Tumblr

🌟 smartypants Follow

I have a princess conference in the morning but that won't stop me from staying up till 3 am on AO3. Mama needs her bedtime stories

🐉 ogres&oubliettesenthusiast Follow

OP go to sleep or I will eat your crown

2,008 notes

🎈 smilesmilesmile Follow

All of you are like "would you fuck your clone?" hypothetically but, in practice, clones are too dumb to give consent and that's the real reason why I didn't sleep with any of my clones when I had the chance

🎈 totally-not-a-clone Follow

OP you still have a chance

10,000 notes

✨ great&powerful Follow

It's always "take off the evil amulet! it's corrupting your mind!" and never "oh! you look so pretty in your new amulet!"

✨ great&powerful Follow

Celestia forbid ladies do anything

102 notes

😏 sexiestvillaintournament Follow

🦋 Id-like-to-be-a-tree Follow

Um, would you guys please stop voting for my boyfriend?

🌪️ whatfunisthereinmakingsense Follow

I take it as a compliment

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

I am offended

500,467 notes

🍎 cmc-omc Follow

Y'all know how some families got a gay cousin and all 'em other cousins are straight? Well mah family's the opposite. Ah don't even think we got a straight cousin!

🍎 cmc-omc Follow

Mah sister says we have to assimilate other ponies into our family so the family name don't die out. She would do numbers here

5,667 notes

🌈 20%cooler Follow

GUYS I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAYS

I've just been on the hospital (again) cause I got zapped by lightning (again)

But I promise I'll update my Daring Do/Reader fic as soon as I can! Thanks for the patience, love you guys!

🌟 smartypants Follow

It's okay, take your time! I'll just reread the old chapters in the meantime

🐉 ogre&oubliettesenthusiast Follow

NO!!! YOU WILL GO TO SLEEP!!!

120 notes

💎 chicunique&maginifique Follow

"how are you so good at fashion" well you'd be an expert in fashion too if you'd spent 20 years in the closet

🔔 professional-theatre-filly Follow

My sister in Celestia that closet was made of glass

20,354 notes

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

Nothing like coming back from exhile just to find your bedroom was replaced by a whole ass forest

Some people have no respect for others belongings

☀️ cake.by.the.ocean Follow

I don't control the growing of the magical forest, bitch

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

Rude

☀️ cake.by.the.ocean Follow

Don't think I forgot about that time in 500 B.E. that you stole my ice cream

200 notes

🛴 the-agender-acrobat Follow

You can't hurt me I have mommy AND daddy issues I'm unstoppable

🌈 20%cooler Follow

OP do you need me to adopt you

🛴 the-agender-acrobat Follow

I would love that actually

1,554 notes

💎 chicunique&magnifique Follow

*levitates my cat out of the way so I can use the sewing machine, which I need for my job*

my cat: YOU LIFT OPALESCENCE?!?!???! YOU LIFT HER WITH YOUR WICKED SORCERY?!??!!!! YOU ASSERT CONTROL OVER HER WITH YOUR MAGIC?!?!??! OHHHHH!!! MOTHER IS EVIL!!!!!

🔔 professional-theatre-filly Follow

I agree with the cat

1,827,654 notes

🥕 Carrot-TOPING Follow

Girlfriend is out of town all week so I'm gonna dye my mane and tail green

💎 chicunique&magnifique Follow

WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING

🥕 Carrot-TOPING Follow

She's all my self control

364, 245 notes

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

Back in my day we tagged our fanfiction properly. There's a difference between / and & you rufians

☀️ cake.by.the.ocean Follow

Shut up old lady

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

YOU'RE OLDER THAN ME

30,150 notes

🩵 girlboss Follow

Sure, sex is great but does *your* husband help you check all your shipping fanfiction for grammar errors? Didn't think so

💎 chicunique&magnifique Follow

She's everything, he's just Ken

🛡️ malewife Follow

Happy to be of service 🫡

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#unreality #fake dashboard #dashboard simulator #tumblr dashboard #mlp fim #mlp g4 #mlp #my little pony #my litte pony friendship is magic #mlp headcanons #my little pony fim #my little pony friendship is magic #fluttercord #mlp shipping #fake tumblr post #fake tumblr dash #headcanon

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utilitycaster · 15 days

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An ongoing theme, with regards to the gods (as opposed to Predathos and the Imperium) is that of free will. The gods are stringent in collecting on promises made, and the Betrayers will use initial consent as license to act freely, but it’s notable, in a campaign where nearly all the main player characters are shaped by entities that never once gave them a choice, the gods require an invitation. Except, worryingly, Predathos, a being of nigh-divine powers who does not seem bound by this limitation. And, of course, mortals can do as they will.

When Lolth overtakes Opal, the fact that Opal assumed both the crown, and the title of champion, willingly, is repeatedly mentioned, in DM narration and by Lolth herself. Lolth also mentions to Dorian, (perhaps untruthfully, though the events of EXU indicate this might be genuine), that she wished for him to become her champion instead - but he did not put on the crown, so she can’t have him. Obviously, Lolth takes many liberties with Opal once given entry, but she can only speak to people or act through someone who has permitted her. We see this too with Asmodeus: it is ultimately Zerxus’s choice not to walk away and face his death, but make good on his pact; some degree of initial consent is needed. K’nauth and Judicators are also both explicitly described as voluntary: once permission is given, they are bound, but this is no different than the contracts of warlocks and notably, with the gods, while we’ve seen them make deals under dire straits, we’ve never seen such unwitting participants in their pacts as Fjord with Uk’otoa or Laudna with Delilah among the gods. All entered in control of their faculties, to our knowledge, though not necessarily with the full knowledge of what it entailed.

The Prime Deities are differentiated from the Betrayers in that they continue to provide free will to their champions and their faithful. The Raven Queen accepts Vax’s trade of his life for Vex’s, given without any direct communication from her, but she quickly does begin to communicate clearly; when Vax communes with her in Duskmeadow, she tells him what she wishes, putting him much more at ease. Later, after his death, she gives him an option to either remain dead, or to have a little more time left with Keyleth, Vex, and the others of Vox Machina before he completes his task and returns to her, and he makes a choice. When Morrighan asks for guidance, the Raven Queen’s response is to ask “why are you fighting, and what are you fighting for?” and stresses that she wishes to lay out the exact terms before Morrighan agrees to anything. When Percy asks her what to do she, ironically enough for a goddess of fate, tells him he possesses the capacity to do great things of his own accord. All of Vox Machina’s divine favors come willingly, only after a conversation; the Wildmother first reaches out to Fjord before he decides to accept. And mortals have the capacity to resist even these promises; Opal is only partially successful but she does not give the Spider Queen two deaths and she does not leave alone. Fy’ra Rai finds herself able to go against Lolth’s wishes even when the Wildmother does not wish to intervene; it is her choice not to kill Opal but to go with her.

When mortals express doubt in the gods, it’s typically not their actions. It’s because they don’t think they meddle in the matters of mortals enough. As mentioned, Percy struggles with the open-ended nature of the Raven Queen’s advice. Essek, frequently considered an “anti-god” character is actually quite mild in his doubt and ultimately more frustrated at the clerics of the Kryn Dynasty than the Luxon itself (put a pin in that). Ludinus Da’leth states the gods should have prevented the Calamity, despite us knowing that the Prime Deities avoided intervention and that ultimately, while the Calamity had a number of causes, mortals (Vespin, Laerryn, much of the city of Avalir) were at the root. Ashton and Imogen’s frustrations with the gods have both ultimately been that they asked for assistance and did not receive it.

The extension of the Prime Deities’ belief in the free will of mortals is sufficiently strong that even during the Age of Arcanum, when many mortals rejected them, and when they did not require mortal intermediaries, they still chose to preserve it until the Calamity began. Each major action by the gods as a group is ultimately one to preserve themselves (the sealing of Predathos; the destruction of Aeor; the current campaign’s truce) or to preserve mortals (the Primes during the Schism and in creating the Divine Gate).

Contrast this with Delilah, who seizes control of Laudna and who is never stated to have asked permission for any of her actions. Compare to FCG, designed by Aeorians to lose control and kill. Compare to Chetney, bitten by a werewolf in the wilderness (and the others of the Gorgynei as well) - indeed, what control he has is the legacy of magic granted by the Raven Queen and by a nature spirit tied to the Wildmother. Contrast this now with Predathos, whose Ruidusborn had no say in this connection and indeed, many are motivated in service to Predathos with the goal of freeing themselves. Enforcers within the Kreveris Imperium refer to themselves as The Will, and Elder Barthie refers to those who oppose them as being made “pliable”. Chetney’s loss of control under Ruidus is deliberately triggered by the Weave Mind, with whom he made no deal.

If we (in my opinion, rightfully) reject any argument that denies the right of sentient entities to self-preservation, we are left with the following accusations of the gods: failing to stop wrongdoing by mortals (both in their name and unrelated); and acting in accordance with pre-existing agreements. The latter we can also reject; it is not perhaps kind of the gods to hold people to their contracts, but this is not unique to them and as discussed extensively above, they do require that, at least initially, the promise be made willingly.

The former, unfortunately, will not be stopped by destroying the gods. Ultimately, such people as Tuldus, Bor’Dor, and the people of Hearthdell were oppressed by their fellow mortals. In-world, we have seen zealotry in the name not just of the Prime Deities but that of countless lesser ones, notably Uk’otoa; if only the Prime and Betrayer gods are at stake, this simply creates a power vacuum to be filled by other entities vastly more powerful than mortals. On the other hand, should all power-granting entities be devoured, setting aside the upheaval this will cause in society, this leaves no shortage of room for oppression on the basis of race or political affiliation, both of which we’ve seen. The Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting’s original incarnation, prior to the further development of Wildemount for Campaign 2, even stated the Dwendalian Empire forbade all religion and was still an authoritarian one. Colonization is the end goal of the Weave Mind and indeed the motivation for killing the gods per Edmuda. It also is not unheard of on Exandria for reasons not attributed to religion, notably the settling of the Menagerie Coast by Marquesians, and Tal’Dorei (formerly Gwessar) by human settlers from Issylra. And, of course, as we know in our real world, you do not need provable deities for religion to develop nor for colonization and oppression. Mortals do these things in reality and Exandria, whether or not the gods exist, and destroying the gods in Exandria achieves no prevention, only carnage.

Returning, finally, to Essek: when we look at the major characters who are PCs or are aligned with them who have expressed frustration with the gods, the only one who has much of a case for being influenced by the actions of a deity is Percy, who is staunchly on the side against Predathos. One could split hairs and note that Vecna was not a deity at the time of the murder of Percy’s family, his own torture, and the destruction and occupation of Whitestone, but rather merely a power-hungry wizard extending his lifespan via unscrupulous means, but Percy’s own choices render this moot. Meanwhile, the gods simply did not alleviate Imogen and Ashton’s experiences, both of which were in part due to powers caused by entities the gods, in fact, failed to sufficiently destroy (Predathos and Ka’Mort specifically) and mostly perpetuated by mortals reacting to Imogen’s abilities or Ashton finding themself orphaned on the outskirts of a notoriously rough city and later, caught as the fall guy in a failed heist by a morally questionable wealthy collector.

It is my belief that Keyleth’s anger is, on some level, extended towards someone who can’t respond nor change and who she feels she cannot be angry at, and that is Vax. Vax made the deal and the Raven Queen collected; Vax decided to take the Raven Queen’s second offer. He was forced into neither, and as discussed later, he likely would have responded poorly to a True Resurrection attempt given his faith. Vax is dead because of Vecna, but neutralizing Vecna didn’t fix it. I think Dorian’s anger at Lolth meanwhile is valid, but it’s also something I’d imagine he feels he cannot direct towards Opal, even though her actions are a part of it. And I’m sure both Keyleth and Dorian blame themselves, to an extent, whether or not that is rightful. The gods make just as convenient a scapegoat for those hurt by mortals as they do an excuse for cruelty. But I don’t think killing them will bring back Vax, and certainly not Cyrus. Much as Derrig and Will and four other Ashari lie permanently dead at the hands of Otohan Thull despite her demise, and Orym’s trauma remains, killing the gods will not undo what happened to Imogen or Ashton. And since their main crime is considered to be inaction, killing them does not end suffering (and, indeed, should we dig into the infrastructures of Exandrian society and cosmology, may very well drastically increase it). It merely confirms that no one will receive their favor rather than only some; a bringing everyone down to your misery rather than striving to elevate all. An apt, if slightly tongue-in-cheek comparison to the real world is the fact that the cause of student loan forgiveness has been hamstrung and neutered by people furious that, since they didn’t receive help, no one else should - it is a self-centered and retaliatory mentality to lash out so far in jealousy that one would willingly destroy the life of another with the goal of increasing universal suffering.

Sources:

Timestamps available upon request but here are the episodes I’m drawing from. Printed works include pages.

Lolth, Opal, and Dorian: see 3x92-93; see also EXU Prime episode 8, EXU Kymal episode 2 for Opal willingly accepting and EXU Prime episodes 5 and 7 for the Spider Queen trying to get Dorian to put on the circlet.

K’nauth: EXU Calamity episode 2

Asmodeus and Zerxus: EXU Calamity episode 4

Judicators: 3x43

The Raven Queen and Vax: notably 1x44 (initial deal), 1x57 (Duskmeadow communion), 1x103 (her offering him the choice to pass or to become a revenant). Percy is also in 1x57.

The Raven Queen and Morrighan: 3x93.

Vox Machina’s divine favors: 1x104-1x106

Fjord and the Wildmother: 2x65; powers granted in 2x76.

Fy’ra and the Wildmother: 3x93

Essek’s feelings: see the final portion of this excellent post from essektheyless

Ludinus on the gods: 3x45

For causes of the Calamity, see EXU Calamity in its entirety, but Vespin specifically is episode 4, many of Avalir’s actions (including ignoring the hall of prophecy) are episode 2, and Laerryn denying the Arboreal Calix needed energy and casting Blight are in episode 3).

Ashton on the gods: 3x65

Imogen on the gods: 3x79

See page 12 of The Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount regarding the Prime Deities’ choice not to enforce their will during the Age of Arcanum.

Sealing of Predathos: 3x43; destruction of Aeor: EGTW 121; Truce mentioned in 3x67 and has appeared in 3x89 (Vezoden) and 3x92-93 (The Wildmother and Lolth).

Schism: EGTW 12; Divine Gate EGTW 13-14.

Delilah seizing control: 3x23

FCG’s design: 3x32 and 3x45

Chetney and Gorgynei (history and control): 3x40-41

Weave Mind control of Chetney: 3x91

Goals of Ruidusborn: multiple but see 3x48 and 3x89, 3x92 for a strong example with Liliana.

Imperium practices: 3x84

Tuldus: 3x44. Bor’Dor: 3x63. Hearthdell: 3x60-61.

Actions of Uk’otoa: much of Campaign 2 but notably 2x98 and The Mighty Nein Reunited.

Original description of the Dwendalian Empire: Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting (not Reborn) page 99

Goals of the Weave Mind: 3x85

Colonization of the Menagerie Coast: EGTW 17 (largely a peaceful one); Colonization of Tal’Dorei: Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting Reborn page 18 (explicitly stated to be against the wishes of the elves; led in part to the rule of Drassig and Scattered War).

Percy and Vecna: Vecna ascends in 1x106; the events of the Whitestone Occupation begin prior to campaign 1. Percy is in multiple war councils against the Vanguard and notably appears in the plans for a distraction to allow Bells Hells to take the Bloody Bridge in 3x81.

Imogen and Predathos: the revelation that Predathos may be within exaltants comes in 3x92; 3x83 and 3x87 both have involuntary experiences due to Predathos and see Liliana’s arguments in 3x48 as well as Imogen’s discussion of Gelvaan.

Ashton and Ka’Mort: emotional fallout most notably in 3x78; Evontra’vir’s description of what happened with the shard in 3x74. Memories of the Hexum Manor heist can be seen in 3x35.

#critical role #long post #cr meta

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chuplayswithfire · 7 months

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I have more thoughts on how and why the sex was a mistake. I will be thinking about this all week. All year.

Let's start with: the sex was consensual, they both wanted it, and that does not change that it was the wrong decision for their relationship in that moment. They should not have had sex! Ed is 100% correct and he is not running away when he says that! He is not just avoiding his feelings or getting cold feet, he is genuinely correct, and here's why:

They continue to be on different pages. They have not had a chance to talk it through. It's been like 2-3 max since Ed woke up from the Gravy Basket, and emotions are still running high. Even ignoring that they were just tortured in front of each other and that Stede killed a man right after Ed asked him not to, they were not in the same space emotionally regarding their relationship.

Fir one thing: Stede did *not* get his heartbroken (prior to this). He got his romantic affirmation. Season 1 was an entire arc leading to Stede realizing he is gay, that he is in love, that he is loved in return. For him, for HIM, sex is a natural next step, and we already knew he wanted it from how he deepened their kiss in episode 5. Their relationship itself is not a source of trauma for Stede; he loves Ed and he walked away from his old life to be with him, and now he found him again, and they've agreed to do it together, figure things out, his romantic hopes are realized.

And in that moment, adding to that background informations, is that Stede also wanted to avoid all his messy feelings by being physical. He was tortured and he watched Ed and his crew be tortured, he was insulted and had to listen to Ed be insulted, and he wanted to regain control and power by killing Ned Low, and removing the threat. That's where Stede's head is.

Ed, on the other hand, did get his heart broken and while the majority of what he's working through is about his self-hatred, his dissatisfaction with his career, and his desire to find a life that feels worth living, he is also dealing with a significant amount of trust issues with his relationship with Stede, because Stede left him. He has heard from Stede that he loves him, but Ed's deepest fear is that he's unlovable, and he hasn't gotten over that, or his hurt from how things went, in the like two days it's been.

But he loves Stede, and he's attracted to him, and he wants him, so when Stede initiates and manhandles him a bit and things get hot and heavy, he consents. He's all in, carried away by the moment.

And he regrets it.

He especially wasn't ready because Ed is a planner. I know we were all joking about how they definitely weren't going to take it slow and they were going to rush through, but I do genuinely think he meant it. Ed's natural state is as a planner and tactician, everything has an angle for him and even when he wants to just be simple, he always has a bajillion factors in mind that he's juggling, so we can be sure that Ed probably did very much have thoughts about how he wanted their first time to go, and what he wanted them to do and grow into as a relationship before they had sex, and instead they got tortured, Stede killed a man, and then they fucked in the aftermath.

Not bloody optimal indeed.

Now back to Stede: he is utterly unprepared for the idea that the sex could be a mistake because to and for him it was the natural next step in their relationship. This is his romantic fantasy is the thing; he was a cool brave pirate captain who made an enemy walk the plank in defense of his crew and his boyfriend, and then Ed came to him and Stede got to sweep him off his feet and shove him against the wall, kiss him, bring him to the bed, and pointedly shut the curtains on an audience that doesn't exist, followed by a lazy morning after with breakfast in bed.

So it probably hurts extra that Ed is like that was a mistake. This is literally him living his fantasy from episode 1, Ned Low even has facial hair and is mean to him like Izzy used to be. He could ignore all the realities of that situation, because he was living his fantasy, and Ed dragged them both out of fantasyland, back to the real world, where their relationship isn't fixed 100% and sex didn't change that.

They weren't on the same page. They still aren't, because they need to talk.

#ofmd #edward teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd meta

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thebestofoneshots · 6 days

Text

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.2 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Read Pt.1

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 14 k

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT, Non-apt for Christians(?). Reader is a little cynical (or maybe cynical Af). Suggestive talks, touching oneself, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), dry humping, P in V. Reader seduces a Priest (so whatever you might expect from that), hierophiIia, corruption!kink, praise!kink (if you squint). Consent is sexy!

Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT VI: You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain

You quickly put the straps of your dress back on and wiped your hand on the inside lining of the skirt. You walked out of the door. You looked around, the church was as empty as it got, you smiled and knocked on his side.

“You may come out, father,” you said, teasingly.

You heard some adjusting, “I’m having a bit of an issue.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you fix that,” you responded, opening the door yourself and taking his arm, pulling him towards you. He stood up and roughly accommodated his coat over his boner. You bit your lip as he did and he gave you a rather impassive look, as if telling you that whatever you might do, could be going overboard. “Do you have an office?”

“No.”

You hummed, dissatisfied at his answer. “A place where you guys give talks? like for people who are going to get married and stuff? I know I was in one of those when I was my cousin’s godmother.”

Remus seemed to think about it.

“We can’t go there.”

“Why not? You don’t have the keys?”

“I do! But it’s not safe, if someone walks in–”

“Oh,” you said with a smile and looked down at his boner again. “I’m pretty sure it won’t take too long.”

Remus huffed, still rather unconvinced. So you placed your hand on his shoulder and pulled him down slightly so you could whisper something in his ear. His eyes shone and he turned to you with a gulp. “Are– are you sure?”

You simply nodded in response.

He shut his eyes and sighed, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re probably right,” you agreed, condescendingly.

“That would be like crossing the line.”

“I suppose it would.”

“Let’s go,” he said.

It was Remus, that looked preoccupied but determined, who led you to the back of the church. You walked right next to the altar, your gaze lingered over it for a second before you went into one of the smaller rooms beside it, and then into another one. You knew the church was huge, but you hadn’t quite dimensioned it entirely.

He was quick to come in and he shut the door. Turning to you as he bit his lip, he was still hard, and you leaned closer to him. “Allow me,” you said with an innocent smile, dragging him closer to the centre of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders. “Breathe.”

He did as told, a deep long inhale, and then a soft exhale, his breath smelled of mint, and a little bit of cigarette smoke. Remus had long ago stopped smoking, but since you appeared, and told him all about the things that’d happened in your dream, he’d taken up that terrible vice again, one of the few things that calmed his nerves.

“Listen to my voice, I mentioned there was a way to control it, right? That I would teach you?”

“Please do.”

“Well, It’s quite simple,” you said as you rubbed your hands over his strong-toned arms, reassuringly. You were not expecting Father Remus to be so solid under all the religious attire, but you thought it was a wonderful surprise. You leaned a little closer to him, enough for your bodies to touch. You felt his boner against your stomach and you’d swear you felt how you clenched around nothing. But it’s not time yet for that. You told yourself.

You knew it was a long game when you started and you were not about to ruin it all due to the heat of the moment, you weren’t that idiotic.

“If you want to control those impulses, then you must give in to them.”

He opened his eyes surprised when you placed your hand on him, carefully, tentatively, and pleasantly subdued. Your hand was much softer and kinder than his own had ever been, much smaller too. He shut his eyes close, his breath was ragged and looked like he might have been in pain.

“Too sore still?” He nodded. “May I?” you asked as you placed your hand on his belt. He swallowed, unsure, and you stopped moving your hands. “Do you want to?”

“But it’s wrong,” he excused.

“Remus I didn’t ask if it was. I said ‘Do you want to?’ Because I’m dying to touch you but if you don’t want to then we should end this here and now.”

“No!” he said, almost too quickly. If he’d had the willpower, that might have been the one and only moment in which things could have turned around. The sharp crossroad of decisions that would have allowed you both to choose a different result. But he didn’t want you to stop, he wanted you to do it, like he hadn’t wanted anything in his life before. “I want to,” he said in a low breath.

You smiled, innocently, and started to unfasten his belt. Then slowly you went for the buttons of his trousers and the zipper. There, straining against his boxers, you could see the outline of his cock. Your breath hitched in your throat, he was big. You had seen that already but you hadn’t dimensioned it, but now, right in front of you? It was easy to see just how big he was, how pretty, you thought as you carefully slid the band of his boxers underneath.

Remus hissed as the cold air prickled his sensitive skin, and you slid one of your hands, carefully, tauntingly, from his stomach and down to his cock. You were careful and light, you slid one of your fingers along his shaft, and you could tell he was stifling a groan. You looked up to him, he was biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes like he was really trying to concentrate. You looked at him and smiled, wrapping your hand around him in a grip so gentle it was as if you weren’t quite touching him.

“Does it still feel sore?” you asked.

He turned to you and nodded, breath ragged, he refused to look at your hand wrapped around his cock, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget it if he did.

“That’s okay then, I know how we can solve it,” you said and started to lean down. Remus looked at you with shock as you levelled your head with his hips.

“What are you–” he started, panic rising in his voice.

“Shhh,” you said gently. And then leaned closer, pressing a small kiss to his tip.

“Will you–”

You pressed another kiss and he let out a short, ragged breath. Then you wrapped your mouth around him, just at the very tip, and felt the slightly salty taste of him against your tongue. Precum, you realised. Remus was as responsive as it got, and you loved that in an almost deranged way. First, you just lapped your tongue around him. Slow and steady, listening in to the moans he tried to suppress.

Remus’ hand was tense beside him, he didn’t know where to touch, he didn’t know what to do with them either. He was too in awe at your actions. You looked like an angel as you peppered kisses along his shaft and then wrapped your mouth around him. Always so incredibly fucking soft, it was insane. He thought he’d seen heaven with you in the confessionary, but he had barely gotten a glimpse at the gates back then.

Eventually, you pushed yourself deeper into his shaft and started to bob your head. The sound he made was music to your ears, and fueled your determination. You quickened your pace and allowed him to push further into your throat, bordering the line between uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter, not when Remus was moaning like that. You imagined yourself with that beautiful cock of his inside of you and the mere thought turned you on even further. He moaned and cursed and kept saying all kinds of things in between mutters and ragged breaths.

“Oh, God!” he breathed, when you used your hand to jerk the section of him that you couldn’t reach with your mouth, “Oh my GOD!”

That one was by far your favourite of all his curses.

Forget about fuck, and shit, when he said ‘Oh God’ when he sinned for you, that was what you loved the most.

At some point, he started inadvertently pushing his hips into your mouth, “I’m sorry,” he said as politely as he could when he heard you cough, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him and he swore he’d never seen something as delightful as your teary eyes and your mischievous little expression. Your lips, though wrapped around him, were almost curving into a somewhat smile and you winked at him as you went back to moving your head.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, his head fell back, breath ragged and moans escaping almost indiscriminately now. Then there were steps outside, far enough but Remus had always had a keen hearing. “Someone’s coming,” he warned, as he leaned on, a slightly worried expression.

You leaned back, a line of spin connected your mouth and his cock and he felt a surge of electricity go through him at the sight. “How close are you?” you asked, panting.

He gave you an exasperated look and you smiled, “I can work with that,” you said before going back and bobbing your head and jerking your hand faster than you had previously. Remus used one of his hands to cover his mouth and you tried not to laugh when you realised it.

“I’m going to–” he started, as he tried to push you out of him, but you were reluctant and you kept bobbing your head. He was both filled with pleasure and with stress. “Angel, stop. I won’t be able to hold it,” he tried next. And then, you felt it, the first ribbon of cum crashing into your mouth. He thought you’d pull back, disgusted at what he’d done to your precious mouth. “I’m sorry, angel. I’m sorry I’m–”

He was at a loss of words, rather than stopping and looking at him with disgust –like he expected– you just kept going, sucking him off until he was empty. The steps had grown louder by now, and there seemed to be some shuffling just outside the door.

He pulled out a napkin for you to spit on it while looking nervously at the door, you gave him a smile and swallowed. “Isn’t it the almighty that says you should never spill your seed?” you said with a mischievous smile and his mouth went dry.

You pressed a kiss to his happy trail and helped him tuck back in. The knob had started to move now. “Place your hand on my head, now!”

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Say a blessing or something, whatever it is you guys do,” you added in a quick whisper. You leaned your head down, closed your eyes, and placed your hands in front of your chest as if you were praying.

ACT VII: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour

Remus started to mutter something, and you remained in your place, licking the bit of cum that had slid down the corner of your lips earlier.

The door burst open, and surprisingly enough, Remus stayed focused on his blessing, rather than turning around startled like you had expected him to. Either your little ruse had tired him, or he was a lot more scheming than he seemed. Perhaps as much as you were. Remus opened one of his eyes and looked at the man at the door, giving him a short acknowledging nod.

“Oh, I’m sorry–” the man hurried. He had a thick, velvety voice, resonant but not loudly disagreeable. “I thought the place was empty,” he added, adjusting his belt. You were not looking at him, since your back was turned, but the urgency in his voice was evident.

“I was just giving this child a blessing,” Remus said calmly. “I’m afraid her aunt is very ill, and her family is losing hope. Care to join us?”

You tried not to look surprised when he said that, you’d never seen Father Remus lie through his teeth so seamlessly. But you weren’t one to complain. You stood up suddenly, a saddened expression filled your face, “That won’t be necessary, Father. I’ve already consumed enough of your time,” you said meekly, and then, throwing him a look, you added, “and your blessings…”

He threw you a warning glance, and you just smiled, diverted, your back still turned to the other man. You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to Remus’ cheek, muttering a ‘Thank you’, just loud enough for the other man to hear. By the time you turned around, your face was solemn looking again.

You nodded towards the other father as you passed by, he had long hair and was rather good-looking as well. He eyed you with amusement. Remus cleared his throat. “Will you come back? For another blessing… I mean.”

You turned around, “Of course, Remus. However, could I go on without them?”

He nodded in return, more reassuring himself than anything. And watched as your dress flowed out of his sight.

“That’s a sweet little lamb you got there,” the long-haired man said with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Remus said and walked towards the exit. “I’ll go fulfil my duties,” he added as he walked out.

“Of course,” the other man replied, the amused smile still playing on his lips. “Have fun.”

Remus gave him a tired sort of look, something close to an eye roll, and left.

Remus had never lied as much as he had lied that week. It started with that simple lie and then it just went on and on and on.

“Father Lupin, could you take care of the Church retreat next week?”

“I’m sorry, I have a family thing on Saturday. I’m on grandma duty.”

Remus was, in fact, not on grandma caring duty. There was no grandma caring duty whatsoever in his family. Mrs. Lupin was old but held strong, and she would never ask to be taken care of, she had always been stubborn like that.

Then another time, he had locked his room door, ready to feed his delusions with the thought of you when there was a sharp knock on his door.

“Father Lupin!” an urgent voice said on the other side, “Father Lupin!”

Remus half opened his door and tried not to look too annoyed when one of his deacons waited at the door. He had opened it slightly, only letting his head through as he looked at the boy. He was the small blond-haired kid who he sometimes found amusing because of how much trouble he managed to get into. Not today though, not when it distracted him from the thought of you.

“What is it?” he asked, slightly impassive. “I was in the middle of a very important prayer.”

Yeah, right! He was definitely going to say God’s name a good deal of time but not in the way it would be expected of him.

The kid gulped, he had never seen Father Remus be so stony. He was always kind and good-natured, no matter what. Heck, he had accidentally walked in on him while changing and Father Remus –although he hated people seeing his scars– had only ushered him out with a light reprimand and instructions to always knock on the door before walking in.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” the boy staggered. “It’s just that the bishop was looking for you.”

Remus sighed, also annoyed that his plan was ruined, shut the door, put on his shoes and stepped out again, still looking cross as he followed the boy to the Bishop’s office.

“How may I help, Your Grace?”

“Ah, Remus,” the old man said when he spotted him. “I’ve been told how excellently you’ve been performing on Wednesdays lately.”

Remus didn’t speak, but he looked at the man attentively, the bishop liked to speak, and it didn’t take long for him to continue.

“The head priest was telling me how brilliant you’ve been. He’s seen you confessing, and dedicating the confessions it’s due time which can be complicated, and even tiresome. And you’ve always proved to be a very responsible young man. As you know most of the church will be heading to the retreat starting next Monday.

“Of course, the church must not be left alone. But since you are not going to the retreat, and I have not had the opportunity to attend one for some time, some of the head priests and I thought it would be a sensible idea to leave the church at your charge. I believe there are a few other priests who will stay, but you would act as my eyes and ears during the week we’re gone. How does that sound?”

Remus drew in some air, completely inexpressive as he tried not to think of all the wonderful things that could happen with the church all to himself.

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.”

“I thought you’d say that,” the man replied with an affable smile. “Thank you for your time, Father Lupin. I’m sure the church will be in good hands.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Remus replied as he nodded to the man politely and he exited the room.

That Sunday you’d gone to mass with your grandma again, she’d come back to the city and she had insisted on going to the beautiful church with her. Of course, this time around, you hadn’t been as angry about having to go to the church as before, if anything, you were excited about it.

Remus was absolutely delighted when he spotted you and your grandma. He had been dying to tell you that he’d be in charge of the church, that you could stay for longer, and not worry so much about being seen with him next week. That’s how he realised he had, in fact, no way to contact you outside of the church.

You had always been the one to come to him, like an angel, uninvited but always welcomed.

When he saw you walking beside your grandma, at a very slow pace and holding her arm as you climbed up the stairs to the entrance of the church, he was quick to excuse himself from the boring conversation he’d been having with the old lady who insisted on telling him all about her rogue godson and walked straight your way.

“Ma’am, allow me to help,” he said politely and took your Nan’s other arm. Your grandma looked at Father Remus and gulped.

“To what do I owe the honour of being helped by a Father?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s just very nice to see you, it’s been a while,” Remus replied.

“She’s not from around,” you explained. The way your lips moved, he’d dreamed about kissing them before but the need for that now was consuming him like a burning fire. He’d never thought of mass as boring or dull, today it hadn’t even started and he already wanted it to be over with. To have you, and to have you alone.

“Of course,” Remus said. “But seeing your granddaughter so often–”

“So often?” your Nan asked, surprised, turning to the man.

“Well, she’s been coming to mass, Ma’am.”

“You have?” she asked, turning to you with a surprise. “You never told me!”

“I guess I’ve found my way back into faith,” you said. “Perhaps all I needed was a good enough incentive to come to church more often,” you added, throwing a knowing look at Remus.

“Incentive, of what kind?”

“Well, how beautiful mass is given here, of course,” you lied. “Didn’t you find it delightful? The way the priests here preach? Remus is especially good at it, you should hear him say god. It’s always so… heavenly when he does.” Remus threw you a warning look, and you gave him a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and then winked, just before turning to your Nan. “Unfortunately he does not preach on Sundays.”

“What a shame,” she said. You were already all the way up the stairs and you helped her into her seat. “See you around, Remus.”

“It’s Father Remus–” your Nan started her chiding but shut up the second Remus turned to you with a kind smile and said.

“See you around, dove.” He didn’t think too much about it, not about the nickname or how softly he’d said it. How loving it had been.

“Dove?” your Nan asked you, Remus had already taken off towards the back of the church to change into his alb.

“Oh, it’s like Lamb, Remus says that all the time,” you said dismissively, although you really wanted to laugh. Your Nan wasn’t stupid, she might be able to catch on, and perhaps she would have, if she didn’t have such blinding faith in priests, and of course, in Remus in particular.

You weren’t sure you’d mind too much. Surely she wouldn’t talk about it for fear of becoming a scandal, and no matter how good she thought of you, she might take the church’s side and blame you for corrupting Remus –which was arguably right. In the end, she had already called you heathen once, it wouldn’t be that complicated for her to notice, and feel guilty about being the one to bring you into the church.

It had been, after all, her fault that you ended up meeting Remus.

But even if you didn’t mind it, you feared Remus might have, so you decided to gaslight her into believing you were the innocent angel that Remus insisted on alluding to when referring to you. It was better that way, it would be easier to continue that way. And of course, you wanted to go all the way with Remus. you wouldn’t be done until it was done. And at this point, petty revenge wasn’t the only thing driving you. You liked Remus, how innocent and forthcoming he was, you thought he was absolutely charming.

When the mass was done, you walked your Nan down the huge steps and helped her to the taxi. The church was pretty full still, but the desperate glances that Remus had thrown your way several times were enough for you to know that he wanted to talk to you. Especially that one reproachful look when you licked your lips as he gave you the host.

You walked up the long steps again and spotted him being flooded by some ladies. Three older women who were all talking at the same time and he seemed to have trouble following, a girl younger than you looking at him like he was Robert Redford –Remus was prettier than that–, and babbling something about her first communion along with one of the older ladies who shared her hair colour. And a smaller girl running around his feet and pulling on his pants aggressively every now and then while saying ‘Look at me, Father! I can twirl now’.

You gave him a short look with a diverted smile and walked towards one of the seats. He looked at you with a pleading glance, his eyes opening wider as he clearly said ‘Help me out of this’. Remus knew you were clever enough to have all the people around him scatter, but instead, you sat down, pulled a book from your bag and read while you waited.

You felt someone sitting next to you, “How’s your aunt?”

You turned around with a frown, it was the long-haired priest who had almost caught you and Remus. He had beautiful grey eyes. Now that you actually paid attention to him: he was regal. If you had seen him before Remus, things might have gone an awful lot different.

“She’s better,” you said, closing the book and turning to him attentively.

“Are you here for another blessing?” He asked, he had a shrewd, very fox-like look on his soft and elegant features, as if he knew something and he wanted you to know he did.

“Well, yes and no.”

“I could help,” he said and placed a hand on your leg. On your bare leg that is. You had worn a skirt that day as well. You looked at his hand and then back at him. If he expected you to blush, he was surprised to see the way you smiled, averted your gaze and rolled your tongue over your teeth. You would have been more than welcome to accept this man’s advances if it wasn’t for the fact that you already had another one in sight. Who was, coincidentally, walking towards you right now.

“I’m afraid you couldn’t,” you said as you cocked your head to the side.

“No?”

“I’m about to hire Remus for a hospital visit, my aunt is very fond of him.”

When Remus reached the two of you, he gave the grey-eyed Father a murderous look. You smiled and gave him a small wink. “I was just telling Father, uh…”

“Black,” the man said with a smile.

“Black, right? I was just telling Father Black that I’m here to talk to you about the thing we discussed earlier. About visiting my aunt?”

“Of course,” Remus said. The little girl had trailed behind him and was stopped by her mother right before she clung to his leg again.

Father Black laughed and waved the little girl goodbye in a rather charming way. Remus threw a look at him which he returned in an equally taxing manner, then Remus nodded to his hand on your leg. He hadn’t even gotten close to touching your velvety legs and here Sirius had his hands all over them, he was livid, although he hid it pretty well.

“Didn’t you have something to do?”

Sirius sighed, “I’ve got to visit the convent.” He didn’t seem too eager to go.

“I’m sure the Nuns will love to see you there, Father Black.”

He turned to you with a small smirk, there was mirth in his eyes, “You think?”

“Oh, I’m certain,” you said with a smile, and placed your hand on his wrist to drag his hand away from your thigh. You stood up, Father Black looked at your legs for a second before he got another murderous look from Remus and stood up himself.

“I guess this is where our paths diverge,” he said, with a slight dramatic air.

“Perhaps,” you replied. “Good luck at the convent.”

“Good luck with your aunt,” he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a side look at Remus, who, in turn, just stared down at him.

“Thank you, hopefully, she’ll get better,” you said, and waved at him politely.

The second the father stepped out of the way, you felt Remus take a step closer to you, enough for you to feel his heat radiating on your back. You turned to him with a smile and tilted your head to the side, he looked adorable while jealous, “Are you taking confessions, Father?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to visit your aunt at the hospital?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you need special permits to leave the church and so on?”

“Oh, no,” he said with a smile. “We’re not going to leave yet, first we have to make the arrangements at the office.”

ACT VIII: You shall make no idols

Remus walked you towards a set of stairs, claiming there were old offices on some of the towers that were rarely visited. As you walked up one of the towers, he lingered only a second while looking down at the stairs behind him, as if he was trying to make sure he had been followed by no one and then continued walking right behind you. It’s here, he said as he pulled out a big, old-looking key and opened one of the doors.

You expected whatever you found inside to be dirty and filled with spiderwebs and whatnot from lack of use, but it was clean. In fact, it was like a small church museum, with all sorts of church memorabilia, some even hanging from the ceiling. The walls were plastered, and white, as if they had been taken care of not long ago, and there was a desk right in the middle of the room.

“Well, this is… interesting,” you said as you leaned over the desk and looked around the room.

“It used to be a museum, got shut down a couple of months ago due to lack of visits. Now it’s a place we use to meditate and pray.”

“And confess, I suppose,” you added with a small, teasing smirk.

Remus stepped towards you, hesitant but not stopping, he was close now. Close enough for you to feel his body heat. “He touched you,” he said as his hand hovered over your leg.

You gave him a look, cocking your head to the side, “Father Black?”

“Yes,” he said, voice colder than he intended.

You tried not to laugh at his childish display of jealousness and had to remind yourself how starved for love Remus had been when you first showed up at his confessionary. How you’d had to tell him to touch himself for him to even dare do it under his clothes and how out of practice he’d been. Even then, you couldn’t help but tease him, he looked lovely when he was being teased.

“Does it bother you?”

“What right does he have? He didn’t even ask for permission, he placed his dirty hands on–”

“Right,” you interrupted. “I guess it was certainly unexpected.”

“But not unwelcomed?” he retorted.

“Not” –he looked at you as if you’d betrayed him– “if I imagined they were your hands instead.” He swallowed thickly, the place was so quiet that the sound he made, combined with the bobbing of his throat, made it beyond evident. You smiled and bit your bottom lip as you looked at him. “Jealousy suits you, Father Remus, with the slight tint of your cheeks, you look delightful.”

His gaze intensified on yours as if he was trying to look past your flirting and into your soul. Did you really think he was that handsome? With you being as beautiful as you were, he’d expect to see you with someone like Sirius, handsome, strong, pretty. Not with someone as rugged up as he was, not with someone that had scars on his entire body. “More than him?”

“Than Father Black, you mean?” you teased again, he tensed, and you placed a hand on his arm. But rather than responding, you thought of showing him. “How about–” you started, your hand sliding down his arm until you had your hand in his and pulled it towards you, “How about you touch me like he did and see how I react to you?”

Remus gulped again as if he couldn’t quite process what you’d said, “You– you want me to touch you?”

“Like in my dream,” you said as you leaned on your hands and sat on the desk better, your legs only slightly parted, not enough for him to realise you’d been wearing no underwear –again– but enough for it to be enticing, your skirt had ridden up just a little bit more, almost as much as Sirius had pulled it earlier with his hand.

Remus was hesitant as he looked at you, eyes blown as he stared but his hand still held firmly on the side. Up until then, it had been you the one to speak, you the one to tell, you the one to touch him however you wanted, he had never been the one to do it. Not even as you blew him had he dared to lay a hand on you. He wasn’t sure if he could debase the holiness of your body with his unworthy hands.

You, upon seeing his hesitance, spread your legs a little wider for him, tantalising him. Remus was dithering as he leaned closer, you’d expected him to go straight for your leg, after all, you had purposefully laid them out for him, and you couldn’t help but be left breathless when he reached up and brushed his fingers on your face. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, almost in a whisper. The raw honesty he used sent a shiver down your spine, you had been called beautiful before, plenty of times, but none of them had felt as genuine as Remus’ words. As deep-rooted and meaningful. “Like an angel,” he added.

Your breath was already heavier, and he had only grazed the pads of his fingers over your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your lips for a second before he moved it to the side and dragged it under your chin. One of his fingers behind your ear, and the rest accommodating along your neck while his thumb placed circles over your throat. “And so soft,” he said then. “I’m scared to break you. Like you really are one of those beautiful saint ikons we have all over the church.”

“I’m far from being a saint,” you said in a whisper, your eyes were as blown as his. The way Remus touched you, how soft and careful he was, how reverential as if each of his fingers was laced with devotion was making you go insane. You weren’t sure anyone had ever touched you like that before, and it made you both crave more and relish in the little he gave.

“Are you?” he asked. “I always feel like I’m floating when you’re around.”

You bit your lips as you looked at him, his other hand had travelled to your arm, and he was holding it firmly, but not strongly, as if he was using it as a reassurance that you were real, that you wanted him.

You bit your lip at that, looking at his, but not leaning into them, “Remus?” You said softly.

“Yeah?” he breathed. He was enjoying the way your cheeks felt warm under his touch and the way the hair on your arm would stand on end as he traced his feather-light fingers over the back of your hand.

“Remember my dream?” Remus wanted to respond that he could never forget your dream, that he had it every night, all the different variations of it that had gone through his head were so sinful he should have gone to hell just for desiring you with that vigour. He merely nodded. “Remember what I did after that?” Remus’ eyes lost in his hands, rushed back to your face.

He hesitated, “You want me to touch you there?”

You looked down at his hands, your gaze lingering over his broad chest, and the way the tight-fitted cassock looked on him, “Please,” you sighed.

Remus, who had never touched a woman like that in his entire life, was beyond nervous as you guided one of his hands to your leg. He was hesitant, playing with the soft skin of your thigh first, softly closing his hands around them and then letting go, each time, his hand reaching deeper in, closer to your core. You were looking at him with a gaze so lustful you might have as well been possessed by one of the seven deadIy sins.

Or perhaps, it was him the one possessed. He wasn’t any better as he stared at you, gulping as he touched you, his cock straining against his pants in a way that should have been uncomfortable, but just with the sight of you embracing his inexpert touch became beyond pleasurable.

He’d become a debauchee, he wanted more of you, all of you. And here you were, giving yourself into all his lecherous thoughts, into all of yours. He was drowning in the idea of having you for himself, of making you his, vows be damned, he wanted you more than anything he’d ever wanted before.

More than God? His mind asked him. Remus stopped moving for a second, and then you placed your hand on his chest, gripped the fabric covering it, and dragged him closer to you, the question was forgotten in an instant, and his hand, almost as in instinct, went right over your slit. But he pulled it back in an instant and looked at you in shock.

“You’re not wearing any underwear.”

You took his hand and dragged it back into your thighs, “I never do when I come to see you.”

His breath was slow and ragged, a part of him was furious over Father Black touching you earlier, of you knowingly letting him touch your thigh and ride your skirt up with his unclean hands, of you feeling any pleasure at all from his attention, from knowing that under the skirt there was nothing to stop him from touching you.

But Father Black wasn’t here, Father Black didn’t get to touch you in the way he did, and you had dismissed him with a kind smile, but had never looked at him with the licentious expression you were giving him now. You were not Father Black’s, and you had never been Father Black’s. From the moment you entered that confessionary, you knew what you wanted. And you wanted him.

Remus’ hand closed the distance between it and your core. And as light as he had been earlier, he traced his fingers over your slit: Steady, kind, supple. Most men had rushed in, desperate to have you, but Remus did it with a patience reminiscent of a wolf stalking his prey. You opened your legs a little wider for him, and shuddered when his knuckle brushed against your clit.

He swallowed and placed one of his hands next to yours as he leaned a little closer to you, his forehead against yours, “Is this okay?” he asked as he repeated the action, his knuckle finding its way between your folds and brushing over your clit again.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That’s incredible,” you reassured.

He did it again and felt his heart start to hammer against his chest when your sighs became soft, almost imperceptible moans. But he heard them, he was the one who got to hear all of those beautiful sounds of yours, and he loved it.

Eventually, Remus changed his knuckle for his thumb, figuring out a more precise pace made your moans a little louder, as he touched you, as he heard you, he stared at your lips longingly, of what he’d do to kiss your lips, to become his own breath and feel the way they shivered under his touch. But Remus wouldn’t dare to kiss you without you doing it first, he thought you allowing him to touch you in the way you did, was already so much, that he didn’t deserve to also have your lips.

If only he knew the only reason you hadn’t leaned in to kiss him was because you thought you’d scare him away, he would have closed the gap between the two ages ago.

“Remus– Rem, Rem,” you said as you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his name had fallen from your lips, so lascivious, was overwhelming all of his senses, almost making him short-circuit just from your voice.

“Yeah?” he asked breathily.

“You can,” you closed your eyes and attempted to focus on your words. “You can put your finger inside if you want.”

He looked at you with a confused raise of the eyebrows. And then he mustered enough courage to ask for something he had only dreamed of since he saw you touching yourself in the confessionary. “How about my tongue?”

His bold question was enough to pull you back into reality, his fingers now tracing slow circles over your clit, slow and steady, as if he was trying to keep you warm as you thought about it. He’d paid attention to the way you touched yourself, he’d always been good at learning, and this was no different.

“You–” you hesitated, trying to regain focus. This was him taking control of the situation, and he was brilliant at it. Your breath was heavy as you asked, “You want to?”

“I’ve wanted to since that day you gave me your handkerchief,” he admitted. You let out a breathy laugh and used your hands to push further back into the desk, so it was easier for him to bend over you, but instead, he took both of your legs and pulled them to the edge as he kneeled on the floor, levelling himself to your core. His hot breath against you sent a shiver down your spine.

Remus Lupin had never kneeled for anyone other than God or his saints. He had never kneeled for anyone that wasn’t already a spirit in the sky or a very important church figure. And he had certainly never kneeled for a woman.

But you weren’t just any woman, you were an angel, you were his new saint, the one whose name he would repeat like a prayer over and over every night, the one he couldn’t and didn’t want to stop thinking about. So when he kneeled down for you, he didn’t repent for it. No, he adored the idea of surrendering himself to you, of giving you anything and everything you wanted.

His angel, if he could, then he’d also bring you to heaven.

Remus looked at your juicy slit before leaning in a little closer and placing a soft kiss on your plush inner thigh. You shivered as he slowly, kiss by kiss, got closer to your core. You almost unwantedly clenched over nothing. He could see your movements, your hips bending just slightly up and your back arching at the mere idea of having him where you needed, and he smiled. Positioning himself right over your slit, but not closing the gap yet.

“Are you ready, angel?”

“Yes,” you breathed, and Remus didn’t waste a second after that. He leaned down and his tongue traced your slit in the same gentle manner in which he had touched you earlier, he allowed his tongue to explore the outside, licking away all of the juices that had coated you when he used his hands to please you. He moaned when he first got a taste of you.

Remus became desperate for more soon, his hands pulling you closer to his face and then carefully pushing your legs open wider, looking up at you to make sure you were comfortable in the new position, but without taking his mouth away from your cunt. Your face, leaning down on the desk was one of pure, unabashed bliss. He was doing that, he was taking you to heaven, and he loved every single stroke.

Your soft moans when he licked, the gasping when he sucked and kissed your clit with a little more forcefulness, the whimpers you made when he brought his hand to your core, both to use his elbow to keep your legs widened and to trace circles over your clit when he distracted himself with licking some other part of you. With kissing or softly nipping at your slit.

Remus might have not been an expert, but every single sound you made was his guidance, and when you sounded the most pleased, then he knew that’s where he should stay, that he should keep going at it until you were a moaning mess, until you were pushing your hips onto him and he had to hold you back to continue doing it, since he figured you enjoyed it more than when you rocked your hips onto his face. Not that he minded it, he loved that just as much as the fact that he could touch you.

“Fuck Remus,” you breathed, “I think I’m gonna…”

Remus didn’t know much about women getting their climax, only really what his friends had mentioned to him before, and how much harder it was for them. It didn’t seem like that though, it hadn’t been all that hard to get you there, not when he had enjoyed every single second of it thoroughly.

Remus knew though, that you would need a little extra stimulation to get there, so he switched his fingers from your clit towards your entrance, and his mouth back at your clit. He was soft and slow at first, only teasing the area as if to find it. And then he remembered the way you had done it inside the confessionary and dug his finger in. You gasped, and he did just the same. He didn’t know what the hell to expect it to feel, but it was tight, and soft, and slippery and he couldn’t help but imagine his cock inside, and how the warmth and the pleasure would feel. Divine, you were beyond fucking divine.

You moaned his name and he curled his finger inside of you, causing you to gasp as he continued to suck at your clit, and then he massaged, softly but purposefully, curling and sliding his finger until you were trembling, one hand gripping at his shoulder and the other one curling on the side of the table, your nails scratching onto the soft varnish coating of the wood. As he looked at you, he realised just how turned on he was himself. He was throbbing behind his trousers, rocking his hips into nothing as he kept kissing you, the slight friction from his underwear was enough to make him want to tremble as well.

Eventually, you stopped trembling, your breath short and eyes closed as you panted. Your legs, which had been tense with clenching muscles, had relaxed into suppleness. He slowed down his movements when you did, easing you out of your high in the most tender way you had ever seen anyone do. Massaging your tights until your panting turned into a softer and more toned down breath, and just when he was sure you were relaxed, he pressed a soft kiss to your slit, as if he was thanking it for letting him touch you in the way he had. Like you would kiss a saint ikon or the feet of the Jesus statue themselves.

Then he leaned his head on your thigh, and pulled a handkerchief from his trousers, passing it slowly over all the areas he had licked and sucked. Being careful when he got to your slit and noting how much more sensitive you were than at the beginning. When he was done, he pressed another soft kiss, this time to your inner thigh, and then closed his eyes as he enjoyed your warm soft skin pressed onto his cheek.

You pushed yourself up by your elbows, and your heart fluttered at the tenderness of his expression. It was like a spell had been cast on him, where he looked so soft, like the pure, holy man he was and not like the lust-driven one you had turned him into.

After looking at him for a minute, you pushed yourself into a sitting position and placed your hand over his head, he looked up at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever experienced. Almost purring into your hand as you allowed it to brush over his head and neck. “Let me help you finish,” you said softly and slid from the desk, you were right in the middle of him and the piece of furniture, so close to him you could feel his breath on your face.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

You frowned as you pressed your hand to his lower abdomen, you thought he said it out of shame because he wanted to make you the one blessed today. But you knew that the poor man, starved from touch and probably love, deserved to come more than you who had touched yourself whenever you felt like it for years now.

So you dug your hand in his trousers, but he was soft, and there was something sticky all over your hand. You pulled your hand out of them and stared at it in shock. “You came?”

He was looking at you, neck and ears red with shame. Breathing in before nodding. He couldn’t quite decipher your gaze, but he knew enough about sex to know that when a man came early, it meant he was precocious, overly eager and childlike. Remus despised the idea of not being good enough for you, “I’m sorry.”

“God, don’t be!” you replied. “Did you– were you touching yourself while you…”

“No,” he said a little too fast.

“So this” –you moved your hand, looking at his glistening cum on it– “this was just from giving me pleasure?”

“Well, I’d never–” he started, trying to find an excuse that would make him feel less shameful.

You just smiled and pulled him into a reassuring hug, leaning your head on his shoulder as you rubbed your hands over his back. “That’s okay, darling… It’s just, I never thought a man would feel such pleasure from doing that to me that he came without further stimulation. If anything, I’m flattered. You must not be ashamed.”

“But didn’t you want more?”

“Oh, Remus,” you said as you pulled your head up and leaned close to his ear, enough for your lips to brush against his still-red tips, “I always want more.”

The way you were wrapped around him, the soft way you spoke, it was strangely reminiscent of the serpent tempting Eve. Wanting him to bite onto the forbidden fruit, the fruit that would be having you in the way he so intensely wanted –needed– to have you.

Atonement, penitence…. Could he even have one when he didn’t regret any of his sins? When rather than feeling remorseful, he wanted more, more of anything you’d give him, more of you. You were delightful, stunning, and warm and perfect all over, he wanted to kiss you so bad, but he didn’t know if he was allowed. The image of your lips against him might have been more tantalising than the image of his cock inside you.

Satisfying his carnal needs wasn’t enough anymore, he wanted to appease his mind too, and the only thing that had that ability was you. You felt like peace and tranquillity. Like you were his sacred place, more holy than the very walls surrounding the both of you. But above all, he wanted more, he wanted to be able to touch you again, to feel you so close to him again that he could almost touch your very soul.

“I’m gonna be in charge of the Church during the retreat,” he blurted out.

“Congratulations, Father Remus,” you said with a bit of a smirk, still hugging him as you did.

“What I mean is– the Church, it’s going to be lonely. Probably just me and a few others who will be too busy studying the scriptures for the Pope’s visit next month.”

That’s when you pulled back to look at him, a mischievous expression on your face, “Are you inviting me over for the night, Father Remus?”

“I thought,” he started, and then smirked. “I thought you might want to confess again.”

ACT IX: I am the LORD your God; you shall not have strange gods before me.

The priests were meant to leave by midday. At 9 in the evening, by the time you were set to arrive, the church looked almost deserted. The people from de Diose that would always be walking around in their robes were nowhere to be seen. In the chairs, there was nothing more than dust. You had seen the last person walk out as you walked inside.

She stood right at the entrance when you were walking up the stairs and then did the sign of the cross as she looked up at the altar. You looked at it as well, the altar at Saint Gryffin was beautiful. Made of marble and carved with a design so intricate it could have belonged to a museum. It had golden touches, that you suspected were not made of paint but rather real gold, and right behind it, a little on the higher side, there was a stunning round, stained-glass window that reflected its colours all over the church when the light hit it a certain way, or so you’d heard a woman claim.

You took a deep breath as you looked at it, outside of the church being the oppressive organism that you disagreed with, there was still beauty to be appreciated. But that was the thing about the world, there was something to appreciate even in the most wretched of things, even the most wicked being in creation, had something to be said for him. They had a huge painting of god casting Lucifer down to Earth near one of the walls, and there always seemed to be people who insisted on drawing the Devil as the most beautiful of men. That had been described in the bible of course, but it was very Wildean of the bible to have a man so corrupted be as delightful.

Or perhaps it was very biblical of Wilde to write a book where a beautiful man became corrupted, gave in to every single lewd wish they had, and yet, remained as beautiful as an angel.

As your steps echoed on the empty church, you walked straight towards the confessionary. Since both you and Remus thought it was the best place to hide while he was closing it all down. You heard the big doors of the church being closed, and Remus dismissing one of his older deacons, the one who was studying to become a priest, with the characteristic solemnity of a man of the church.

The same solemnity that seemed to leave him the minute he felt you, standing behind him. You had leaned onto him while he finished up with the locks and whispered in his ear. “Nice to see you again, Father. Will you take my confession?”

He swallowed, he knew it was your little game, and he decided to play along. “Pray tell child, what have you done this time?”

“I was walking on the street,” you said. “On a little one of those stores where they sell elegant underwear for women, or well, I suppose they really sell them for men, so they enjoy their women… I saw a little set.”

“What kind of set?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the wooden door, he pretended to busy himself with the locks, although they were all done by now, he just kept touching them with an air of nervousness that he tried to contain as he spoke.

“Well, it had a bra, one of those really nice push-up bras that make women’s breasts look delightful, and a small little thing for underwear that’s so transparent I might as well be naked while wearing it. But the best part, Rem, oh, the best part is the matching transparent little robe that came with it.” His breath got stuck in his throat, he resisted the urge to turn around as you pressed your body to his back, leaning so close he could feel your lips touching his earlobe. “Would you like to know the colour?”

Remus gulped, so loud it almost made an echo in the church. “Yes.”

“Then turn around and see it for yourself.”

He did, and there you stood, wearing the exact clothes you had described. He imagined the colour you’d chosen had been forest green, like the girl from his magazine, but he never imagined how absolutely enchanting you’d look in such an outfit.

“Your little story inspired me, thought you’d like it,” you said with a smile, and then you looked down at the visible bulge in his pants. “I gather you did?”

Remus was speechless as he stared at you, he was never expecting anyone, let alone you to put such an effort for him, to dress in such a scanty little outfit just to please him. A part of him was dying to take it off, like he’d dreamed with that girl from the magazine, the other part of him, wanted to let you keep it, to have you like that forever. And then, there was the desperate part of him, the one that he couldn’t keep under control as he leaned down and kissed you. His mouth was in yours when he realised he hadn’t even asked if he could.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t–”

You smiled and placed your hands around his neck, “I thought you’d never do that,” you breathed, and pushed him back into the kiss. His lips were soft, and gentle, and it was you the one to press your tongue against them. He complied with your wish, and suddenly your tongues were dancing with each other, deepening the kiss.

Remus’ hands found their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him, your stomach pressed against his boner, and he almost flinched when he realised and tried to pull his hips back, but you didn’t let him. “I want to feel it, Rem,” you whispered in between kisses. “I like to feel how good I make you feel.”

“You make me feel better than anything and anyone has ever made me feel,” he retorted. “That’s nothing, that’s just collateral.”

You could have drowned in his words. But instead, you decided to drown in his lips, returning to kiss him with an even more ardent fervour. You somehow got Remus to sit on one of the benches and he pushed his head to look up at you while you kissed him. His hands had gotten just venturous enough to touch thighs, and the idea that he could was only making him harder. The strain of his cock on his trousers was almost painful at this point. You figured when he had to move one of his hands to adjust himself and hissed at the contact.

That was enough for you to climb on top of him. “Sweet thing, what are you–” he tried to ask in between a kiss, but you were already rocking your hips against him before he continued, and his words were interrupted by a moan.

You pulled back and smiled, “Helping you with that tension.”

He stared at you, the way your swollen lips moved and turned upwards into that very like you smile, and he tried not to eagerly jerk against you the next time you leaned your clothed sex closer to him.

“This is the first time I ever– fuck…” Teasing you was hard when you were so damn incredible at making him feel in heaven. “I ever see you wearing knickers.”

“Perhaps your goodness is rubbing off on me,” you replied with an equal smirk.

“That’s not the thing that’s rubbing onto you,” he somehow managed to joke, and you laughed. A laugh so angelical it might have as well come from heaven altogether, it echoed against the vaulted ceiling of the place and then came back to him in a lower, softer tone that made him smile, and drag you back into a kiss. He was clearly much more confident –or perhaps just more eager– today.

“Father Remus,” you said as you pushed your hips on him, he struggled to get a grip on reality as he focused on what you were saying.

“Mhm?”

“I want to confess.”

“Right now?”

“It’s a very sinful thought I’ve had.”

Remus arched an eyebrow and then moaned when you rolled your hips against him again, making sure he was turned on enough to comply with your, actually very sinful little wish.

“Then tell me, dove. I’ll absolve you. I’d absolve you from anything.”

“But I don’t want absolution, Father,” you said and let out a shaky breath. “I want you to sin with me.”

Remus laughed, “Anything you want.”

“You haven’t even heard my request.”

“My answer remains the same,” he said solemnly.

You smiled and leaned closer to him, making sure to lean your hips on his, feeling how hard he was on your core making you so wet you were sure your new knickers were already stained. You whispered what you wanted in his ear. Low, steady, as if you weren’t alone in the church. Then you pulled back to look at him, “So?”

He gulped and looked behind you as if considering your request, there was a nervous gaze on him, a small frown, and you worried your request had been out of line, “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, and pulled from him, leaning on his thighs instead of his hips. A worried expression plastered your features, terrified you might have killed the mood. “If you don’t want to then we don’t have to, we–”

He pulled you into a kiss, he thought it was lovely how quickly you had changed your mind for him, but his words carried meaning, and when he said ‘anything you want’, he really meant it. He pulled his lips from your and pressed kisses all the way to your ear and then whispered “I was just thinking how to get us there.”

You were thrumming with excitement by the time he dragged his hands to your thighs and pulled himself up with you wrapped around him.

“I won’t let you fall,” he said as he noticed you steadying yourself.

“I know,” you said with a smile and pressed a kiss to his neck that made him falter. “I may have my doubts now.”

“I would never let you fall, darling, not without going along with you,” he whispered and started walking towards the chancel. He looked at the Bishop’s chair and imagined having you there, but that wasn’t what you’d asked for.

When he reached the altar, it was easy enough to lean on it and let you sit, the height was just about perfect for him, with how tall he was, your faces were levelled with each other. Remus had been taught to care for the altar, to kiss it, to worship it since it was the symbol of sacrifice, the symbol of God, the cynosure of all eyes during any Eucharistic celebration. He thought it rather proper to place you there, since to him, you were the real cynosure.

And he would treat you like such, he would kiss you, and worship you, like you were God yourself. Because at this point, you might as well have been.

The altar was bare except for a few candles that he hastily pushed to the side as he stared at you, sitting there with your profane little clothes while still looking as holy as an angel. He had been behind the altar perhaps thousands of times, yet he had never felt nearly as illuminated as he had that moment.

“What?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Just admiring how incredibly stunning you look,” he said. And then he tilted his head, his tone changed, “I think I need to confess.”

You smiled, you loved it when Remus joined your little game, you bit your lip and placed your hands on each side of his flushed cheeks. “Speak, dear one, I will absolve you with a kiss.”

“I want to sullen this sacred table by worshipping a different god on it.”

“Different? To him?” you asked as you nodded towards the cross in the back. “A better one?”

“A much more tangible one,” he said. “One that dresses in beautiful lingerie and steals his priests.”

“Just one,” you corrected. “I only want one of his priests.”

He chuckled, “Just one then.”

“Come, I’ll absolve you,” you said and leaned closer to him, pressing your lips on his again.

There were warning signs all around Remus’ head. Red flags telling him to stop, voices calling him a harlot, weak of mind and body, a heathen and a pagan. His reproaching father telling him how much of a disappointment he was, the elder being disappointed at his lewd actions, and the part of him that was still a priest telling him to stop before it was too late, before he wouldn’t be able to do it, but that line had long ago been crossed, and all of those thoughts were the easiest thing to ignore when your sweet lips were in his.

You had to be an angel, there was no other way you could make him feel as incredible as you did. And if not an angel, then you really were a god, his Goddess. And so he would venerate you and worship you on the altar like he’d learned to worship his previous god.

ACT X: You shall not kill

Remus stopped kissing your mouth and started placing soft, feather-like kisses all over your face until he got to your neck, gently moving the thin, translucent fabric of the little robe to the side so he could kiss the skin of your collarbone. Open-mouthed kisses and soft licks that felt desperate filled your senses as he pressed his face to your skin and breathed in your smell.

The slight scent of rose he particularly enjoyed when the church was filled with them for a wedding that the soap you’d specifically bought for today had tainted your skin with, the smell of the city air where you had commuted, and the ridiculously delicious natural smell of your skin. He kissed again and again, slowly letting his hands wander through your body, digging them down to the robe until the small bow that tied it was undone and he pushed it off your shoulders and allowed it to pool down on your hips.

He pulled back to look at you again, lips swollen and red from how much he’d kissed you, lustful gaze lost on you, pupils blown out and softly panting as he regained his breath from the previous kisses. He bit his lips as he stared at your breasts. He’d seen them, but he’d never touched them, you weren’t even sure if he’d ever actually touched a pair in his life, and he had been purposefully avoiding them altogether as he kissed your neck.

You smiled, “You want to take it off, or do you want me to do it?”

He swallowed thickly at that, looking up at your eyes as if trying to make sure you were serious about your words, you raised your eyebrows at that.

“It might be tricky, but I’m sure you’d manage, you’re a clever man, after all.”

He wrapped his hands around you after that, first on your shoulders, and then he got closer, slotting himself even deeper between your legs as he allowed his fingers to delicately brush over your shoulder blades as his eyes were focused on your neck. You looked at him while he did, your own breath nervous and as slow as you could make it. The way he touched you, the way he revered you with every brush of his fingers against skin was almost overwhelming.

You bit your lip as his fingers found the clasp, and tightened your grip on the edge of the altar as the anticipation ate you up, his hands were slow, as if he was trying to figure out what the mechanism was before actually undoing it. But once he did, he didn’t take long, with one hand he pressed one side to your back and with the other he undid the clasp. After that, he placed his hand flat on your back and allowed you to rest there for a second before travelling back to your shoulders and playing with the straps.

He gave a questioning look and you nodded, he didn’t waste time as he slid them down your arms, while carefully removing the green item from your breasts. He saw the way they bounced slightly down and stared at them solely as he removed the rest of the garment and threw it backwards. He got to see the way they perked with the chill air of the night and he stared as if it was the first time he ever looked at them. Perhaps it felt like that since the last time it had been through the confessionary, and he hadn’t even had the time to touch them.

His hands hovered over your breasts before you gave him an approving nod and he leaned close enough to touch them. He went back to kissing your neck as he brushed his thumb over your lower breast and only after he’d felt how soft, and sensitive they were –due to your reaction to his soft touch– did he dare to cup them in his hands.

“Is that okay?” he asked as he tightened his grip on the one he was holding. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Not at all,” you responded and leaned closer to him, your other breast brushing against his cassock. “Can I take this off?” you asked as you gripped his shirt.

“You may do as you please to me,” he said honestly. You allowed your hands to travel to his white necktie and pulled it off as you too found a way to kiss his neck. He was pressing kisses to your hair as he delicately brushed his thumb over your nipple and moaned your name from the way you kissed him. It was a little complicated to find the buttons of his shirt at first, but when you did you were quick to undo them and shrug his shirt off. Above it all, you wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You allowed your hands to brush over his scars, you hoped one day he’d tell you why they were there, but for now you did nothing more than admire them as you kissed from his neck all the way to his shoulder. He sighed your name as he delicately pinched your nipples, and then he allowed his hands to travel to your back and push forward, holding you as gravity pushed you down, allowing your back to rest against the cold marble of the altar.

“You’re the prettiest thing my eyes have ever laid upon, you know that?” he asked as he looked at you. At your breasts, at your hands, at the curve of your neck and at the way your hair had sprawled all over the marble. The place had been designed so that the light from the stained glass window fell over the altar at certain moments of the night and day, and at that precise moment, it was reflecting all over you, tinting your skin with infinite colours. The light from it was casting a halo around your head.

If Remus hadn’t realised by then that he would not only break his vows for you but do anything you asked, be it eat from the forbidden fruit or kill a man, he knew it when he saw the way you leaned over your elbows and cocked your head to the side, looking at the way he stared curiously. Remus had already forgone his god for you, and he was ready to forgo himself if you asked.

“Will you kiss me again?” You asked, voice soft, almost innocent.

“I’d do anything you wanted,” he said honestly and leaned into you, pressing kisses to your neck. You felt his skin against yours, rough and soft and you sighed at the blissful feeling his kisses gave you. His kisses went from your neck to your collarbone and then he tentatively brushed his nose over the valley of your breasts, looking up at your reaction before pressing a kiss to one of them. A soft and innocent sort of kiss, before he actually opened his mouth and sucked on one of your nipples, nibbling on it when he realised you shivered at the grazing of his teeth.

Then he continued going down, and slotted himself between your legs, feeling how wet you were over your thin lingerie. He teased you by pulling on the elastic of the knickers, and slid them down your legs before he pressed a kiss to your thigh; and while you were dying to feel his lips on your clit again, there was something else you wanted, something neither of you had dared to try with each other, and if things went anything like they had done the previous time he’d gone down on you, he would have been too spent to do it.

“Not–” you breathed. “I want to do something else today.”

He looked up at you curiously, his hot breath against your core sending shivers down your spine, “Yeah?” he asked, he was clearly as much in a haze as you were, absolutely and irrevocably drunk on you.

“I want you inside me,” you breathed out. He looked at you as if your request was alarming. “Please.”

There was nothing, not in heaven, not on earth, and certainly not in hell that would have made him deny you. He pressed another kiss over your thigh and then he moved you a little further up into the altar, climbing up himself so he had at least a little more leverage. “I’ve never–” he hesitated. “You’ll have to teach me, angel.” The smile you gave him was the most devilish one you’d ever given anyone, but to him it was nothing short of angelical. “Will you?”

“With pleasure,” you retorted, pushed yourself up and turned the two of you around, now his back was on the altar. “It’s quite simple Father Remus, I’m sure you’ll master it in no time like you’ve done with everything else I’ve taught you.”

He just stared at you, eyes filled with lust as he nodded in acknowledgement. You tilted your head forward and let out a soft sigh, lips curved into that same smile as before. You placed your fingers on his collarbone, “I assume you already know the way it works,” you said as you allowed your hand to lay flat against his toned chest, and then dragged it down. “Should I teach you that as well?”

“If it pleases you,” he answered.

You looked at him with a teasing grin and then pushed yourself up to straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs as you slowly undid his trousers and pulled them down. Once they were out of the way you went for his boxers, allowing your hands to brush over his thick-length just to hear his reaction, the groan he tried to suppress was nothing short of thrilling. You didn’t waste much more time before you too pulled them off. His cock sprang up, thick and proud. You bit your lip and dug your nails in your tight before you reached for it.

Remus was sensitive, and you did not want him to come before he was inside of you, so instead of teasing him further with your hands, you accommodated yourself right on top of him and pressed yourself over his cock. Your folds wrapping themselves around it as you rocked your hips back and forth to coat him with your juices. You heard him curse and groan, and you were trying really hard to hold yourself together, but you couldn’t help the mellowing sounds that escaped your mouth as his cock brushed against your clit. He thought it was heavenly, he thought nirvana was at his reach and he wasn’t even from that religion.

“So what you have to do,” you breathed.

“That wasn’t it?” he teased as he saw you attempt to raise yourself from his cock and fail, he placed his hands on your waist to help, but when he figured how good that particular position made you feel, instead of raise he pushed you down on him again, moaning at the way your folds made the skin of his cock pull back.

“Well, that’s great for me,” you said as you leaned towards him and rocked your hips again, your lips so close to his that they brushed each other as you spoke again. “But I can make it better for you.”

Remus wasn’t sure that was possible, but he had thought there was nothing better than touching himself with the thought of you and you had proved him wrong with your sweet lips around his cock. “I wouldn’t mind it if we stayed like this.”

You rolled your hips again and he moaned, “Bet you wouldn’t,” you laughed. And then raised your hips again, his cock sprang up again, and you bit your lip as you looked down and reached for it, accommodating it towards your entrance. You brushed his tip against your clit a couple of times and moaned his name before slowly letting it find your entrance. His breath got caught in his throat as his tip entered you, “Is that okay?” you asked softly.

“Fuck– yes…” he let out. You smiled, and continued with your task, slowly sinking in deeper. Remus was moaning your name as he felt your walls stretch around him. “It’s… really fucking tight.”

“If it’s too much I–”

“Don’t dare stop!” He rushed out. You smiled and continued your careful descent until he was completely inside you. Your head was laying on his chest as the two of you panted, getting used to the intoxicating feeling the other brought. He was filling you up and making you feel things without even having to move.

“How’s that?” You asked as you clenched around him.

“My god, did you just–?” You clenched again and he groaned.

“Gather you liked it?” He gave you a look. “Tell me when you’re ready for more.”

“More?” he asked confused, and you rocked your hips forward, he moaned and felt himself throb inside you, “Okay,” he breathed. “May I?”

You nodded, he placed his hands on your waist again, helping you move your hips on him, and cursed, eyes closing shot as he got used to feeling so overwhelmingly good. You smiled and rolled your hips as you pushed yourself up, resting both of your hands on his chest and using them as leverage for rolling your hips even more.

He accidentally pushed his hips into you, “M’sorry,” he muttered.

“No, that’s good,” you encouraged, and he did it again. “You feel incredible,” he said, almost to himself. “You look incredible,” he added, looking at your face, brows slightly furrowed as you bit your bottom lip and rocked your hips on his, at the way your breasts bounced with the rolling of your hips.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t love his praises. He was always so adamant with them, and they always made your stomach flutter, even now, as he was inside you. His thrust got more desperate, and you realised your weight was making it harder for him to move freely.

“Let’s– Let’s switch,” you stammered. “Take the top so you can move better.”

“You sure?” he asked hesitantly and you nodded. He placed his hands on your back and carefully flipped the two around without disconnecting your bodies and started pounding into you with a little more urgency.

You smiled, and allowed him to rut into you, as he leaned closer to kiss you. “I like this position too,” he said with a smile.

“Mhm?” you asked as you looked into his eyes.

“I can kiss you as much as I please like this,” he said and closed the gap between your lips, biting on the bottom one as he pulled back to look at you again. You clenched around him in retort and he moaned. “When you do that…” he breathed, his forehead pressed into yours.

His thrusts started to pick up the pace as if he was losing control over himself, you instantly knew he was close and dragged your hand down to your clit to rush your own climax.

“What are you?” He asked and lost his trail of thought after you touched your clit and let out a soft mellow moan. Your knuckles brushed against his cock with each rut and he was quick to drag his own hand down –the one he wasn’t using to hold himself above you– and push yours out of the way to draw circles over your clit. “Good?”

“Mhm…” you moaned, eyes shut and completely lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He pounded against you again and somehow reached that spot inside that made you squirm. Your panting increased, and your heartbeat quickened even further. Remus, who was adamant on seeing every single reaction his touch made you feel, decided he had to do it again to hear that sweet sound of yours and soon enough he had you melting for him.

Now he had been the one to take you to heaven, so perhaps he had, in a way, converted you back, since you once again believed such a place existed, even if it was just for a second.

“I think I’m going to–” he cut himself off when he felt cum shut out right inside you. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he said as he tried to get out. But you were faster, gripping onto his neck and dragging him to a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you clenched around him, feeling yet another ribbon of his warm cum inside you. “Please do it inside.”

Remus tried not to moan at your request and hid his blushed face in your neck as he continued to thrust inside you, movement erratic as he milked the rest of himself on you.

When he was done, he fell on top of you, his head beside yours as he breathed thickly, his weight crushing you in a way that you thought was insanely pleasurable. After a few minutes, you tilted your head to the side and reached your hand up to play with his hair as leaned your lips close to his ear. “So, how was it?”

He scoffed at your question, you definitely knew how insanely good it had been for him. “As if it weren’t obvious.”

“I’d still like to hear you say it,” you said with a wicked smile.

“Insane,” he said and turned to look at you. “Absolutely, and undeniably mental.”

“Yeah?”

“I thought I was in heaven.”

“Maybe we both were,” you said honestly. He pulled from you and allowed himself to lay beside you, not missing the way his cum slid down your folds. You slotted yourself in between his arm and his chest, and brushed your hands over his toned chest.

“Father?” you started.

He turned to you, “Don’t call me that anymore. I’ve broken my vows, I’ve killed him.”

You looked at him with a sort of forlorn expression, “I’m sorry,” you said honestly. You had wanted him so much, that you hadn’t thought of how your wishes would affect him.

“Don’t be,” he said with a smile, “I am not.”

Even if he had shattered his vows, even if he had broken most of the church’s rules, he’d had seen heaven, and he did not want, and wouldn’t want to go back from it. Remus recognized every single thing he’d done wrong, he’d seen his vileness, but he decided he’d go on with it.

Because how could it possibly be wrong to kiss you? How could it be wrong to touch you and to feel himself inside you when it felt so good? There were no righteous men and no catholic god that could have convinced him that what’d he’d done with you was wicked, not when he saw your smile, and not when he looked into your hypnotising eyes. Every single thing about you was perfect, and he wouldn’t have changed a thing of what he’d done.

Remus had decided to switch religions, he’d decided to get a new creed, he now fervently believed that you were his everything.

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

Text

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 5.2k (including intro)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only), enemies to lovers, sub!neil/dom!reader, slightly dubious consent?, orgasm control/denial, praise and degradation, oral sex m receiving, come eating, riding, a touch of breeding kink, semi public sex

do NOT read this until you have read the FIRST PART or it won't make any damn sense!!

"So, whaddya say, Mr. Lewis?"

"I say… suck my dick," he returned with a smug smile.

You just laughed. "Maybe I would if I thought you could last more than thirty seconds."

His face got a little redder as he glanced away. "Seriously? You think I'm that helpless?"

You shrugged. "I think I'm that good."

He looked at your face for a moment, a certain look in his eyes— a look that made it seem like he wanted to take you up on the challenge. “Of course you do,” he smirked, “guys probably tell you you’re funny, too.”

“Sometimes,” you agreed, “but I’m not joking now.”

He stiffened up a bit. “I don’t have a stamina problem,” he assured.

"If you're so confident, let's bet on it," you offered. "I’ll blow you, and if you last thirty seconds or less, I'm buying the place. More than that, you'll never have to see me again."

“Jesus,” he sighed, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Is that really how you make a deal?”

“It’s one way we could make this deal,” you returned, “and it sounds like a lot more fun than all the other ways.”

“You have an unfortunate habit of overestimating yourself,” he noticed.

“Then this should be easy for you.”

He hesitated, laughing nervously, but you stared forward so he knew you were serious. After a tense pause, in which he opened and shut his mouth a few times as if nearly saying several different things, he sighed a bit. “O-okay, yeah,” he relented, and you had to fight back a smile— not because you were actually that excited to suck some random video store owner’s dick… but because you were pretty confident that you just bought yourself some prime real estate and that promotion you’d been gunning for. “S-so, um, how do we—?”

You cut him off by pushing him back into his chair with a grin, already loving the slight look of desperation on his face as he looked up at you. "Let me get a little more comfortable first," you explained as you slipped your blazer off and tossed it aside.

Then the shirt— one button at a time, not too slowly but without any sense of urgency. “Y-you don’t have to do all that,” he promised thinly.

“Be patient,” you encouraged with a wink, “I just can’t afford for you to… stain any of this. I have to go back to the office today, you know.”

He nodded a little in understanding, his chest filling and sinking a little more with each breath as he watched you strip. For something you’d managed to spin as practical, you were doing it with a bit of… flair, slowly pulling the shirt off your shoulders and dropping it to the floor as his eyes were glued to your chest. Of course, it helped that this bra wasn’t exactly ‘practical’ either… you only let your eyes drop for a second to the growing bulge in his jeans.

You started to push your skirt down, watching his eyes follow the fabric as more skin was revealed, only to tug it back up just before you got anywhere too exciting. "Or maybe I should leave this on," you decided, making him whine and look up at your face pleadingly.

"C-c'mon," he panted.

"Maybe if you ask nicely…"

He hissed in a breath through his teeth. "Please…" he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Please take it off," he sighed, and you smirked at the way his hips jumped up a bit as you pushed it down to reveal your matching panties. “Fuck,” he choked, “you dressed up like that just to come here?”

You shook your head. “I had other plans today,” you offered cryptically, and if he was going to ask more questions about that, he forgot them when you stepped out of the skirt and right up to where he was sitting. “Should I leave these on?” you asked as you ran a finger along the top of your thigh-high stockings, seeing him struggle to form a thought as he looked at them and then back up at you.

“Y-yeah, maybe… maybe leave those on,” he breathed, “the floor might be cold.”

“Oh,” you cooed, “you’re such a gentleman.”

You knelt down in front of him, rubbing your hands up his thighs through the jeans as he swallowed thickly. Each time you slid your hands over his legs, you moved a little higher, until you were just barely brushing over the bulge under his fly. You bit your lip and looked up at him, savoring the nervous expression he was wearing.

You opened the button of his jeans, and took your time with the zipper; you giggled a bit when you felt his cock flex, even through all the layers of clothing.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” you teased in a soft voice.

“N-no,” he denied.

“Really? You never wanted me on my knees in front of you?” you pressed.

“Well, that’s sort of a different question,” he breathed, whining slightly under his breath when you got his fly open and reached in to rub him through his boxers. “Oh, t-take it out,” he instructed, but you just laughed.

“Let me do this my way,” you replied, and he seemed to realize then that you were teasing him on purpose, to make his side of the bet all that more difficult. It would’ve been reasonable for him to call you out on your cheating, but he was too busy reaching forward to feel your tits through the bra; he groaned a little, squeezing them eagerly.

You did take it out, of course, after barely a minute of teaching him through the fabric, and you bit your lip as you wrapped your fingers around his warm, firm length. It was a little bigger than you bargained for, but you weren’t exactly worried— after all, you were going to make sure you didn’t have to do this for very long.

Licking your lips as you stroked it— and trying to make it look like an instinctive move rather than a deliberate choice— you watched him as he stared down at your face and then your hand, a drip of clear precum already leaking from the slit. You hummed as you picked up your pace a little, still mostly just exploring him, but squeezing him in your palm too just to watch him squirm a bit.

You leaned in and gave it one long lick, with just the tip of your tongue, all the way from the base to the head, and he hissed a little with his next breath as he stared down at you. You hummed at the slightly salty taste as you lapped up the thin arousal, and his chest sank with a long breath.

"Okay," you smiled, "you can start counting now."

"O-one," he choked out, voice getting thinner as you wrapped your lips around him and bobbed your head. After all that teasing, you had to be efficient for the next thirty seconds: you sucked hard and stroked with one hand while the other slowly rubbed his balls, hoping to give him the full treatment and make this quick. "Two, three—"

You pulled back but kept stroking him. "Not so fast," you scolded, "look at your watch."

"Sorry, fuck, um," he groaned, glancing at his watch to try to keep the correct time. "Two… three… four…"

Your spit was running down to smooth your hand's movements, and he groaned as he started to buck up into your mouth. His hands held your head, fingers tangling into your hair as you kept going.

"Five, six— oh god," he moaned, head tilting back for a second… but when he looked at you again, you looked up and met his gaze. He bit his lip, already breathing heavily as he watched you.

He never forced your head down, really, but you could feel him trying to guide you, trying to make you move a little faster and take him a little deeper. You could do that— you moaned around him as you pretended to let him take the lead, figuring that was what he needed to feel in control right now. But as soon as you did, he tightened his grip on your hair and tried to slow you down… and you wondered if he was already realizing this bet might have been a little out of his pay grade.

“Ten,” he choked out, groaning as you flattened your tongue more to rub along the underside of his cock. “Ele—oh, fuck— e-eleven…”

You moaned again, one of his hands slipping down from your hair to the back of your neck, even running over your shoulder and lingering on the strap of your bra.

Speeding up slightly, you tried to subtly twist your hand while you stroked and just keep a steady pace— once you found the right thing, you just needed to stick with it, and something about the hoarseness of his voice as he moaned for you seemed like a sign you’d found the right thing. “Baby,” he mumbled under his breath, and you had to try not to smile since it would just get in the way of things. You would definitely not be letting him get away with calling you ‘baby’ if your mouth wasn’t full…

Even you weren’t focused on the numbers anymore, putting all your energy into this as you bobbed your head on him.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” he yelped when his tip brushed the back of your throat. “Twenty— oh god…”

Home stretch, just ten more seconds, you thought to yourself, if that… he sounds pretty fucked up. And it’s not that you hated this so much, it was actually turning you on more than anything to hear him sound so desperate— but you already had your eye on the prize, and you could’ve probably attributed the wetness gathering in your panties to the mental image of telling your boss tomorrow that you finally bought out Gumshoe Video, just as much as what you were actually doing right now.

"Twenty-t-two, twenty-three," he kept going, voice getting a little deeper now, and you wondered with a hint of nervousness if he could really make it— he was flexing in your mouth already, but maybe he could hold it back.

You moved faster, pretty much as fast as you could, and shut your eyes tight as you hoped this would work— you didn’t quite realize it at the time, but you were more motivated to make him come for the sake of it, than for the consequence of owning his store as a result.

“Twenty-eight,” he gasped, and you sucked even harder as desperation started to kick in— but then he choked on a moan, and flexed in your mouth again. "Stop, stop!" he begged suddenly, and you stilled before pulling away with a smile.

"Can't take it, huh?"

"I just need a second—"

"No, you don't get a second. I already gave you thirty," you reminded him. “I win.”

“N-no, wait,” he panted, only to open his eyes wide when you stood up and slid into the chair with him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you in the most adorably pathetic way, his hands shakily coming to rest on your waist.

“It won’t be so bad,” you promised, “we have fabulous benefits, you know.”

He was clearly not paying attention, whimpering as you moved forward and rubbed yourself against him through the thin lace. “F-fuck, please,” he whispered, and you smirked.

“You wanna fuck me?” you asked, acting totally surprised by it. “I thought you hated me.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “and yes.”

Grinning, you sat up enough to pull the panties aside and guide him to your entrance, watching him choke on nothing as you teased his head with your slick lips.

“F-fuck, you’re wet,” he noticed, sounding more proud of himself than you intended him to be.

“I get that way when I’m about to get what I want,” you shrugged, just a moment before sinking down and taking him all in one relatively-quick motion. He moaned loudly and held on tighter to you, but you gave him no time to rest at all as you moved right away, riding him with a contented sigh and struggling not to openly laugh at his almost-pained expression.

Obviously, he wasn’t actually in pain, it was just a look of conflict as he realized how badly he wanted to come and how bad it would be if he came right away— but you’d brought him right to the edge, after all, and you watched physical instinct and fleeting logical reasoning battle in his eyes as his eyes watched you bouncing on top of him.

“Fuck,” you moaned softly, humming when his head rubbed right against that spot inside you— you guided your movements to hit it every time, a nice little shiver running over you. “Fuck, Neil, it’s good…”

He was obviously affected by the praise, and you rocked your hips faster as you watched him struggle even more to hold himself together as his head tilted back against the chair.

"You'd better not come inside me, Neil," you warned sternly. "If you do… well, let's just say as your new employer, we're proud to offer a rather generous paternity leave."

"Oh god, oh god," he choked, yet holding on tighter to your hips while you moved.

"Not gonna knock up your boss on your first day, are you?" you laughed, reveling in his panic.

"You're not my boss," he panted, "not 'til I sign the paperwork."

"Oh, honey," you purred, "I already own you."

He whined and bit his lip, shutting his eyes tight— but you couldn’t let him run away that easily, you couldn’t let him hide from what was happening to stop himself from coming too fast: so, you took his hands off your hips and guided them up to your chest, all but forcing him to feel your tits again as he moaned louder and obeyed. “God,” he breathed, “I— I don’t know if I can take much more of this—”

You hummed with a little pout, leaning in and lifting his chin with your fingers. “Poor thing,” you cooed just before you pressed your lips to his, kissing him hungrily while riding him even faster.

He moaned into the kiss, clearly overwhelmed but still trying to kiss you back. When his hands moved to your hips again, trying to slow you down, you grabbed them by the wrists and pinned them down to the arms of the chair, making him groan and buck up into you.

“Just let me use you, baby,” you breathed against his lips, making him whimper and nod. “Y’wanna feel me come, don’t you? You wanna make me come?”

“Yes,” he groaned, “fuck— yes, please—”

“You can take it, right?”

“God,” he winced, speaking through his teeth as you moved your kiss down to his neck. “God, fuck— I think I can—”

“I think you can,” you agreed, “you’re gonna be good for me—”

“O-oh, fuck,” he moaned, his cock flexing inside you again when you bit playfully on his neck. You hoped to leave a mark, thinking it would be funny to make sure he couldn’t hide what had happened— but then again, it might not be the smartest idea… not that any of your decisions in the last five minutes were based on smartness.

Your hips rocked on instinct now, pressure building and twisting inside you until you couldn’t help but drop your head back with a long sigh of pleasure.

“Please come, please come,” he begged in a weak and high-pitched whine, and as much as you were amused by his desperate attempts to get you to finish before he did, you were also pretty into it… as in, it was working. You’d only been doing this for a few minutes, but you’d had quite a bit of fun sucking him off and, well, he looked so cute begging.

You moaned and moved a little faster, holding on tighter to his wrists. “Fuck, I’m close,” you promised.

“Oh god, oh god,” he whined, hands tightening into fists as you held them down. “Baby, please,” he choked, and you smiled as it hit you. You wondered if watching you come would be enough to send him over the edge.

“Oh fuck, Neil, yes!” you shouted, hoping to give him a show so he wouldn’t be able to help himself. “Oh my god— so good, baby, you feel so fucking good—”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he chanted under his breath, shutting his eyes tight— but then opening one a second later and groaning at the sight of you.

The feeling began to pass as your thighs quivered, your whole body exhausted by the motions just as much as the draining power of your orgasm. Stilling on top of him, you let go of his wrists and sighed with relief, resting your hands on his chest. He shuddered, and you pretended to remember that he was waiting to come. “Oh— do you want me to—?”

“P-please,” he choked.

You pulled yourself up until he slipped out of you, both sighing for slightly different reasons. You reached down and wrapped your hand around him, laughing softly at how swollen and reddened his tip was— it almost looked painful, and the way he winced when you gingerly stroked him almost sounded painful.

Your free hand stroked his hair as he leaned his head forward against your chest, panting with exhaustion. “Please, please,” he whispered between breaths, over and over.

“You did good, baby,” you promised him, “you can come now—”

He groaned and did it pretty much instantly, you could feel it running down over your fingers and even getting on his shirt and pants. You clicked your tongue pityingly as he bucked up into your hand, his face fallen slack in pleasure and weak moans falling from his full lips.

“Poor thing,” you said again, watching him go totally limp under you— and his exhausted cock starting to follow suit— as the last little drip of come ran down over your fingers. You brought your hand up to your mouth and licked up what had gotten on you, which his sleepy eyes watched in awe. Before you swallowed, though, you pulled him by the jaw into another kiss— slow and sloppy, feeling him shudder as he tasted his own spend.

When you figured he’d had enough, you suddenly pulled away and slipped off of his lap, putting your panties back in place and starting to pick up the clothes that had scattered on the floor. You wondered if he would say something, though you couldn’t imagine what, but found yourself a little surprised to be dressing in silence. Then again, when you looked over at him, he was staring forward blankly and looking absolutely drained— in every sense of the word.

After getting fully dressed— though you figured you still probably looked less composed than when you got here— you slipped back on your heels and wondered if there really was nothing else to say. “The paperwork will come in the mail,” you informed him simply as you turned to leave, and only then did he reach out and grab your wrist.

“W-wait,” he stammered, “I— I need to know when I’ll see you again.”

You considered that for a second, eventually shrugging. “I don’t know, I work in acquisitions— once you’re acquired, you’re not really my concern anymore.”

“Really?” he breathed, smiling but seeming sort of frustrated. “None of what just happened seems… concerning to you?”

You laughed a little, stepping closer to him again as he finally got himself in order— and groaned a little as he realized how bad the stain was on his shirt. “Neil, my job is pretty simple: I need to make this place profitable. Or, I need to make you make this place profitable… that’s going to take up all of our spare time.”

“So, if we’re losing money,” he posited, raising an eyebrow, “would you need to come here and… discipline me?”

“Don’t get too excited,” you scoffed.

“Why not? Shirt’s already ruined.”

“Listen, I know that was… great,” you sighed, “but we should still establish boundar—”

He stood up and cut you off with a kiss, sudden and needy as you sighed against him. He reached up and held your face, before dropping his hands down your waist and pulling you closer. You were just about to melt into it when you (mostly) came to your senses and gently pushed him back.

He was looking right into your eyes, a pleading sort of look in them, as you broke away from the kiss. “Boundaries,” you finished in a whisper.

“Yeah— okay,” he nodded, “I can do boundaries.”

He kissed you again, both of you getting a little more desperate as your arms draped around his shoulders. It went on for quite some time, your breathing getting heavy again and the softest moans getting muffled by his lips as his body pressed against yours.

You looked up at him expectantly when he pulled back this time, and you bit your lip a little when you realized you were down almost as bad as he was. “I think I’m gonna like working here,” he announced with a wide smile.

645 notes · View notes

hypnostouched · 6 months

Text

Thinking about James and the Collar again

I do agree with people that it doesnt work exactly the way James and Will thought it did, however I do think it would be very anticlimactic if it just. didn't actually do a lot, negatively, after James has spent two entire books being terrified of it. Narratively, the Collar has to be important and it clearly has changed James; even if hes not the mindless toy that he assumed he might be.

But ive also been thinking about - if indeed peoples theories about Anharion siding with Sarcean before the Collar was put on him are correct - why the Collar would exist at all. And it makes me think of what Sarcean was accused of.

Sarcean was accused of ensorcelling the Sun King; or attempting to. But even if Sarcean wasn't at the height of his power yet - he wouldn't have failed. His two powers, according to Kettering, are control and death, so yeah of course accusing him of controlling the King makes sense but what doesn't make sense to me is that Sarcean would have attempted it and failed. Now clearly Sarcean had been intending on getting caught at some point, because he needed to get into the oubliette, but he did seem bemused that it was happening when it was so he wasn't actively planning all the details of it - he knew he was being trapped and went willingly, but he didn't actually put this into motion directly. If Sarcean wanted to control the Sun King, then the Sun King would be controlled. I think the accusation was false.

I also think, that very often in political issues, false accusations are oftentimes a redirect. The accuser is often guilty of the crimes they claim others have committed. I wonder, then, if the Sun King had Anharion under some form of control and the Collar was made to negate that.

There's a lot of talk regarding consent around Will and Sarcean's abilities. Will and Sinclair are only able to control those who have been branded and the interesting thing is that all those Sinclair had branded had been willing. They'd not understood the extent of what they were agreeing to, but it didn't seem like it was forced on people. Will repeatedly thinks that he didn't force people to follow him like Sarcean did, the entire everything about James and the Collar, the Lady telling Sarcean that people wouldn't follow him if they knew him, the Returners stealing bodies. Consent and free will are very key topics.

And while I don't entirely believe this idea that Sarcean was faultless, I do think a lot of what we know about him has been skewed by the Light over time - I do think Sarcean is far more grey than believed. Sarcean doesn't seem to be able to control people without the Brand, to the point where the branding rod is the symbol of his power. If, like Sinclair's version, most of these Branded followers take it willingly, then for Sarcean to rob Anharion of his free will entirely seems off.

So yeah I am of the mind that the Sun King was playing at his own control and had some power over Anharion that Sarcean sought to break. Perhaps it couldn't be removed, but instead replaced.

#dark heir spoilers #dark rise spoilers #dark rise #dark heir #will kempen #james st clair #my dark rise posts get notes i forget that when you actually post things people interact with them

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jtargaryen18 · 1 year

Text

His Inheritance: Chapter 29

Part 29: There for the Taking

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence, character death. (No this isn't a carryover from Chapter 28) This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had just wrapped up his meeting with Murdock when someone knocked at his study door.

“Thank you, Matt,” Steve told him. “My driver will take you wherever you want to go.”

Murdock finished stowing his items away in his briefcase, rising from the chair with the help of his walking stick. His new consigliere paused.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “Good luck on everything.”

His lawyer opened the door to let himself out, Luca allowed him to pass before peering in. And Steve could tell from the look on the cook’s face that something was off.

“Boss, we have a situation,” Luca said. “I’ll see Murdock out first.”

“Thank you,” Steve muttered.

Steve stayed in his chair, tired. He had only spent one night away from his wife, and he hadn’t slept. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the hurt on her face when he told her they’d continue their marriage when her birth control shot was no longer in effect.

It had been a shitty way to handle the situation and he knew that. He let anger conquer his head. He tried to justify it to himself with the idea that isolating her in their bedroom would keep her safe. At least until their plans with the families were complete. Once that was done, it would be him trying to earn her forgiveness. Trying to earn his way back into his own bed.

The sooner they could deal with Barnes and the other families, the sooner he could mend things with her.

For fuck’s sake, they had to. Steve shook his head.

Women had been an addiction of his to this point in his life. A love-hate relationship. Steve loved the beauty of women, their softness, their smiles. He loved them dressed up so he could show them off, one conquest after another. Sex was his fix, the best way to get high and out from under all the things that plagued him in day-to-day life. Steve was always up for it. Any time of the day, anywhere.

Like any addiction, like alcohol or drugs, there was a dark side. The women were a problem with their needs for validation and ownership. If they tried to hold onto him, he walked. If they tried to manipulate him, he ran. And considering who he was, there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it.

When he decided to marry, his wife had everything he could have hoped for in his position. Young and naïve, sheltered. She had an innocent beauty, ballerina delicate. And for his dark world, she had a bonafide motherfucking pedigree. Steve would be the envy of every man, not just for his position but for his beautiful young bride, the daughter of the man who led before him. And behind closed doors, he’d teach her to please him…

How had it come to this?

A man could learn to live without alcohol, without a drug. It wasn’t easy but it could be done. His wife was neither of those things. Living without her now was like trying to live without air or water. It scared him and that fear pricked at his anger, made him lash out at her.

The fact that he couldn’t control her, couldn’t even contain her, made him want her even more.

Luca’s heavy tread let Steve know he’d returned, closing the door behind him. The edge of desperation on his man’s face brought his focus back to the present.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, watching Luca drop heavily into the chair his lawyer just occupied.

“Look, Nat got a call from Clint,” Luca said slowly. “Said we’ve been ratted out.”

Steve knew he wouldn’t like what Luca had to say but he didn’t think it would be that bad. “What?”

“Clint called Nat and told her we been ratted out,” Luca said again. “Told her to get your wife and go to the sewing room. They’re both up there.”

Steve’s mind spun. He checked his phone and saw he had nothing from Clint.

“He hasn’t tried to call me,” Steve said.

“Nat said things didn’t sound so good on his end. We don’t have a location on him.”

It wasn’t going well at all for Clint to go so far as to ask Nat to go to the hiding place his father set up years ago and take his wife with her.

Steve had always hated being hidden in there with his mother and sister. He felt small, helpless. The last time he’d been fourteen years old. Once they got past the feds, Steve had complained to his father about being put there. He’d loudly told his father he could have helped. His father had given him a solid beating for that outburst. His father had taken his pride down a peg or two that day.

Now that he was older, he understood why his father had placed them there when the situation called for it. His father had come from a place where he wanted to protect what was most valuable to him.

They didn’t know where Clint was. They supposedly had a rat. And his sister and his wife were in the sewing room. Nat would stay there just like Clint wanted her to.

His wife? Steve just knew she would hate it. He knew she’d be bristling before long just like he used to. Probably for the same reasons.

“Think Barnes got to Clint?” Steve asked.

“Nah,” Luca replied. “he’d let them kill him before he’d bring Nat into things in any way.”

That rang true.

“But he said Barnes knows everything now. That we’re all in danger,” Luca went on. “He didn’t say who.”

“He wouldn’t tell Nat,” Steve said, trying to wrap his mind around this turn of events. “It protects her… Where’s everyone else?”

“We’ve been trying to reach Dyson but he ain’t answering any of us,” Luca explained.

“Even my wife?” Steve had to ask.

“You have her phone,” Luca pointed out. “He ain’t answering Nat’s phone.”

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Scott’s fine. He’s on his way here.”

His cook left someone out. “Neal?”

“I don’t know,” Luca told him, his expression grim.

“You think Neal is our rat?” Steve asked.

“Your wife does,” Luca told him.

The tap at the door stopped their conversation. Luca rose and went to the door, opening it to find Scott. Steve motioned him in, Luca closing the door.

“Scott, I have a question for you,” Steve said as his men took seats across from him. “What happened that day when I brought my sister home? Specifically, what happened between Banner and my wife?”

Scott blew out an exhale, nodding. He explained that he caught Mrs. Rogers before she went down to confront the angry lawyer and tried to send her back to her room, to let him handle it. When Scott explained that she wouldn’t agree to that, Steve nodded. It was what he expected.

“I told her to stay behind me,” Scott told them. “But she really didn’t do that either. Banner came in yelling about you taking his wife. He blamed you. He blamed Mrs. Rogers. He turned a scary shade of red. Right before you came in, he reared back like…”

“Like?” Steve asked.

“Like he was going to hit her,” Scott finished. “Like he was going to hit Mrs. Rogers. I pulled her back, but it wouldn’t have been enough. Belova came out of nowhere and blocked him, got him under control.”

Scott’s story matched his wife’s so far. Steve felt his anger rise.

“And Neal? What was he doing?” Steve wanted to know.

So did Luca, he was staring Scott down hard.

Scott shook his head. “He didn’t try to protect her, boss.”

Scrubbing a hand over his beard, Steve looked at Luca. ‘What are your thoughts?”

“Dyson beat the bejesus out of him right here in this office,” Luca said.

“Because he threatened Belova,” Steve reminded him.

“You ever known Dyson to beat the shit out of someone as a warning?” Luca said. “I’ve known Dyson a long time. I’ve seen him warn people lots of times. But not like that. He has a problem with Neal just like your wife and Belova has a problem with him. If they think he’s the rat, yeah, so do I.”

“Scott?” Steve asked.

Scott nodded. “Neal doesn’t talk to me. I just know I didn’t like how he acted that day with Mrs. Rogers. I don’t like how he treats Yelena either. I could never tell if it was because he didn’t like her or he didn’t like her because of her loyalty to your wife.”

Neal had been a loyal soldier to Steve, someone he trusted. Neal had even saved his life. How could it be that everyone else in his house didn’t trust him? How?

Jesus.

“If Clint is right and we’ve been ratted out,” Steve told them, “We have to call everything off. If Neal is our rat, Barnes and whoever is working with him knows exactly what we’re planning. Fuck.”

Rising from his chair, Steve began pacing. “Dyson is supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. I thought by sending them together, they could mend fences. Bond over taking care of shit. And it would prove Neal isn’t a liability. Now… hell, Neal might kill Dyson himself for that beating. If he hasn’t already. We have to find Dyson, now.”

“Unless we have reason to believe otherwise, we have to assume Dyson will meet Neal as planned,” Luca said. “And that’s not long from now. We need to be there before Neal is.”

“Luca, I need you to dial back orders. If Barnes knows any of this, our people are walking into a trap. I need you to talk to everyone. Personally. Call it off.”

“You got it, boss,” Luca said.

“Luca, I want a small goddamn army around this house,” Steve instructed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luca said.

“See if anyone knows anything about Clint,” Steve went on. “I want a status on him ASAP. Scott help Luca.”

Both men nodded.

“Otherwise, my sister will lose her fucking mind.” Steve thought of her in the sewing room with his wife.

Luca and Scott left his study to do his bidding. Steve went to the bar behind his desk, poured himself a scotch. He needed it for what was coming next. Pulling open his desk drawer, he fished out his wife’s phone.

Once he finished his drink, Steve headed up the stairs, passing his bedroom. When he reached the linen closet, the façade that hid the sewing room, he took a deep breath. Quietly as he could, he opened the door, pushed the button that opened the door to the hidden room within.

Nat was huddled on the bench looking miserable, physically and emotionally. Her green eyes filled with tears when she rushed to him. Steve caught his sister in his arms, hugging her tightly. She was cold, shaking.

His wife? She sat on the floor under the window, eyeing him warily.

One thing his wife wasn’t? Afraid. No, she wasn’t showing any fear.

Easing his sister back onto the bench, Steve smoothed a hand over her red hair. “Nat, I’m going to have Luca bring some blankets and a space heater up here with your dinner, okay? You’re freezing.”

Nat wasn’t letting him go. “Is Clint on his way home?”

Steve met her gaze squarely. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

Nat didn’t look convinced, but she sat back down on the bench, her hands wringing. Steve walked over to his wife, held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her off the floor.

“I’m going to talk to my wife for just a moment out here, okay?” Steve asked carefully.

Nat nodded. His wife followed him through the linen closet and out into the hall.

“We need to talk,” Steve said slowly, trying to keep his tone even.

“I’d like to help you, Steve,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “But we don’t resume our marriage until 29 days from now, so…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Everything’s so fucked right now between me and you. And we will deal with that.”

“Yes, we will,” she said, way too calm standing before him.

“But right now, we have to deal with the threat to this family,” Steve told her as he would one of his men. “Were you with Nat when Clint called?”

She frowned. “No, I was locked in my room.”

“Nat came and got you,” he said. “What exactly did she tell you about that phone call?”

Surprise flashed across her beautiful face for just a second. “She said that Clint told her we had been ratted out. That Barnes knew everything and that placed us all in danger. He told her to come get me and to bring me to this room as soon as she got off the phone. And she did just that.”

“He didn’t tell her anything else?” Steve asked.

She shook her head. “I wanted to see if she had left anything out or could tell me if she heard anything in the background. She’s too upset about the fact that he’s in danger. She’s barely holding herself together right now… Have you heard from Clint? Or Dyson?”

“No,” he said simply. “Luca’s doing his damnedest to find anything on either of them.” Speaking of Luca… “You have Nat’s phone. That’s how you got Luca.”

“Yes,” she told him. “It was obvious you hadn’t heard from Clint if you were still meeting with your lawyer.”

“You didn’t call me,” he had to say it.

Her chin tipped up in challenge. “If I had known what to expect from you, I would have.”

Steve earned that. “Is there anything else you know, Sweetheart? Anything at all?”

Oh, she did. He knew that look.

“What?” he asked.

“It involves Yelena,” she said, holding his gaze.

“This is not the time to bargain with me—”

“Oh, I’m not bargaining for anything,” she informed him, anger hardening her expression. “Yelena will be back where she belongs when this is over. She’s loyal to me and it was out of that loyalty that she told Clint where he could find Banner.”

“Excuse me?” Banner was supposed to be gone. Long gone, off to the west coast.

“He was still here,” she told him. “On Stark’s turf. He needed to be dealt with and Clint deserved a go at him.”

The way his wife spoke, the fire in her eyes. It mirrored the anger he was struggling to keep down right now.

“Think about it,” she said. “Yelena gave him that information. Then he calls Nat, tells her we’ve been ratted out and Barnes knows everything. We’re all in danger.”

Steve stared her down. “You think Banner is the rat?”

She shook her head. “Banner’s involved, but he’s not the rat. He didn’t know what you had planned for tonight. And he had no access to that information unless it was from the rat who did. But he was still here. Banner was hoping for something, and it wasn’t Nat.”

She had a point. Banner had sworn to Steve he’d be gone.

“You think Stark is involved?” Steve pressed.

“No,” she said. “I don’t really know him. But from the impression I got, he wouldn’t be that stupid.”

It was his thought exactly about Tony Stark. Jesus. Who was this woman he married?

“Barnes?” She shrugged. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

“You’ve talked to Belova,” he said.

“And she is on her way to the location she gave Clint,” she explained.

“Alone?”

“No, she’s with friends,” his wife explained.

“What friends?”

“All I know is that they are friends of Dyson,” she said. “And if he trusts them, and she trusts them, then so do I.”

Not a hint of doubt or hesitation. His wife stood toe to toe with him, talking about the dangers of his world with authority.

“But we have no idea where Dyson is.” Now her expression softened. The smallest trace of fear in her eyes. “I tried to call him from Nat’s phone, Luca called. There’s no answer. He’s supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. Steve, we have to find him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Steve nodded. “We do. We really do… Dyson didn’t take it well that I pushed Belova out.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t,” she said bitterly.

“You got in his head about Neal,” Steve told her. “Neal said something about Belova Dyson really didn’t like. He beat the shit out of him last night, right there in my office.”

Steve saw the flash of excitement in her eyes at that. Just as quickly, it diminished.

“Jesus, Steve. Dyson’s walking into a trap between Hansen and Neal.” His wife shook her head, her teeth tugging at her lower lip nervously. “He’s dead if we don’t do something.”

Steve knew she could be right. If Neal was who she thought he was.

“You really think Neal is the rat here?” he asked.

“I know he is, Steve.”

It was then he realized something. The conviction, the certainty in her voice? It was all too familiar.

It all very much reminded him of her father. Every bit of it. And her father had been a hell of a leader in his time. He would never have found himself in the shit situation Steve let himself fall into.

Could he put aside who he thought Neal was? Did he have a choice?

Pulling her phone out of the pocket of his slacks, he handed it to her. “Try to call Dyson. One last try before I start making hard decisions.”

She took the phone without hesitation, hitting Dyson’s number with haste and putting the speaker on so he could hear. It only rang once before someone answered.

“Hi there, Princess,” Hansen drawled.

Fucking Hansen?

Steve tried to grab the phone, but his wife pulled it away, putting a finger to her lips. A signal for him to be quiet.

How was he supposed to be quiet when the slimy bastard had his mentor?

Why was the fucker calling his wife ‘Princess?’

“Are you there?” Hansen taunted.

“I’m here,” his wife said finally, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing to say?”

“Why are you answering Dyson’s phone?” she demanded.

“Dyson’s a little occupied at the moment,” Hansen went on in.

“He’s alive?” she asked.

“For now.”

“Is Neal with you?”

Hansen laughed at that. It was the moment Steve realized his wife was right.

“They’re working through a few things,” Hansen said casually. “It’s going well.”

“I want to speak Dyson,” she told him. “Now.”

“Think I’m lying to you, Princess?”

“Now, Hansen,” she said with more force.

Hansen’s sigh was loud and there was the sound of movement. Another voice mumbled in the background, Steve thought it was Neal. Then they heard Hansen say, “she wants to talk to you.”

“Hey,” Dyson said, sounding out of breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Dyson said slowly. “Don’t you worry yourself about me.”

“You know better than that,” she said. “But I need you to come home.”

There was a loud crash and the sound of Dyson’s yell. His wife gazed up at him wide-eyed. Now she was afraid. Steve wanted to grab the phone, but it was better for Hansen to think she was alone.

“You want Dyson back home?” Hansen’s tone was a little impatient. “Let’s talk.”

Her eyes were still on her husband. Steve nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’ll give him back to you, but I want something in return,” Hansen said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You know what I want,” Hansen told her. “You.”

The thought that the ruthless bastard wanted his wife so badly had Steve choking on his fury.

She snorted. “And what do you think is going to happen? You’re going to show up with Dyson and Steve will make a trade?”

“Steve’s running out of time,” Hansen told her. “If he was the man you deserve, I wouldn’t have his top lieutenant, would I? I wouldn’t be so easily able to reach his wife. Steve can’t hold his own family together, much less lead the other families. When he falls, have you thought about what that means for you?”

It was all Steve could do not to start ranting at the arrogant fucker. Especially as he watched worry creep into his wife’s expression.

“How would it happen?” she asked.

“No!” Dyson yelled in the background. “Don’t you even think about—”

A sharp crack cut off the rest of what Dyson was about to say.

“Please don’t hurt him,” his wife whispered.

“You can stop it,” Hansen told her.

She looked to Steve, big eyes filled with so much emotion.

In his head, Steve narrowed down his choices. The fact that Hansen had Dyson, cut down his options. Neal was with them, confirming his wife’s suspicions. Neal would have told them all their plans. Fuck. Neal knew lots of things about Steve, how he ran the family.

If something happened to Dyson, and he had to admit at the moment that it was a very real possibility, the family would survive it. They already appeared to be struggling and that was Barnes’ intention, he knew. Losing Dyson would make them look even weaker. Blood in the water to put doubt in the minds of Odinson, Stark, and Wilson.

If something happened to Dyson, his wife might not survive. Especially with Hansen making her believe she could personally save the only father she really had. Hansen’s cruelty forced his hand. If Steve denied her now, he’d lose her.

With a fear shooting through his heart he’d never known, he nodded. His wife’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How will it happen?” she asked Hansen again, not missing a beat.

Hansen muttered his instructions in his wife’s ear. Steve didn’t catch most of it, gripped by the seriousness of the situation. Hating that he had no other choice. Hating the risk that he could lose both his wife and Dyson.

“I’ll see you soon, Princess” was all Hansen said when he ended the call.

And just like that, leading the families wasn’t the most important thing to Steve. Leading his family, having everyone’s respect didn’t matter. Not nearly as much as the man they held hostage or the woman he loved, watching him with the phone clutched in her trembling hands.

“Steve, what are we going to do?” she asked, sounding as scared as she looked.

Wrapping his arms around his wife, Steve pulled her close. She trembled in his hold, and he knew she was afraid, but she was brave. Steve was proud of her for that.

“He said I needed to be there, at his house, within the hour,” she told him. “Or they’ll kill Dyson.”

“I know,” he said low by her ear. “So we need to move fast.”

Moving past her, Steve went to the sewing room, leaning down to kiss his sister’s forehead. “I’m taking my wife with me,” he said. “Stay here and stay hidden even though I’m going to do my best to keep the fighting away from here.”

Nodding, she said, “Be careful.”

“We will,” he told her. “Luca will still be here if you need him.”

His wife hugged her quickly. “We’ll be home soon. With Clint.”

Steve just hoped his wife was right.

***

Your heart raced as Luca and Scott arrived at Steve’s office, closing the door behind them. Both of them looked startled to see you.

“What’s up boss?” Luca was still staring at you. “I’ve got the men setting up around the house.”

“We’ve had a complication,” Steve told them. “It’s Dyson. Hansen has him.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open. Luca scowled at Steve. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“With Neal’s help,” Steve said calmly. Glancing back at you, he blew out an exhale. “My wife was right.”

You couldn’t even enjoy being right. Not with someone you loved in danger.

Leaning against his desk with his heavy arms across his chest, Steve looked deep in thought.

“Barnes found out just in time that we were going to hit him and hit him hard,” Steve said. “We were going to strike his turf, his holdings. Hansen. By now, he knows we figured out we were betrayed. He’s going to do one of two things. He’s going to try to hit us here, which we’re ready for and he would know that… Or he’s going sit tight and see what our next move is.”

Luca shook his head. “Barnes ain’t going to do shit right now. If he’s smart.”

Steve nodded. Scott looked as lost as you felt.

“Why not?” Scott asked.

“We can’t prove the hits on us were Barnes,” Luca explained. “We know they were, but we can’t prove it. Then there’s the other three families. They swore allegiance to Steve. If they find out Barnes is knifing Steve in the back, they’ll rally to our side. But if Barnes can get in their heads, make it look like Steve is paranoid and weak…”

From the beginning, Barnes’ plan was to prove Steve was unfit to lead the families. You remembered the first time you met him in the kitchen, the bitterness of his tone when he spoke to Steve. The belief that he should have been leader of the families – Barnes not Steve.

“Barnes can’t just fight Steve for leadership?” you had to ask, wanting to learn.

“No,” Luca told you. “He doesn’t have the muscle.”

“Why did Barnes have Hansen grab Dyson?” Scott shook his head. “If what you say is true, that move doesn’t make a lot of sense. No one is closer to Steve than him.”

“I don’t think that was Barnes’ idea,” Steve said. “We’d planned for Neal and Dyson to go deal with Hansen. And Hansen has it coming for attacking this house and trying to get his hands on my wife.”

“But Neal and Hansen grabbed Dyson instead,” Scott said. “How is that going to play out?”

“Dyson beat the shit out of Neal right here in this office,” Luca explained. “It’s perfect really. Neal claims he’s having problems with this family and Dyson beat him like a dog. So he defected, telling Barnes things to earn a place over there. Offing Dyson would be seen as just a little bit of payback between two soldiers. That’s how that plays out.”

You swallowed hard. It was all plausible. Complete bullshit and terrifying, but plausible.

“How do we get Dyson back?” Scott asked them.

“He wants to trade for him,” you told Scott. “He’ll let Dyson go if I agree to take his place.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open again. “What?”

“Hansen called my wife. He doesn’t know I was listening. He thinks he’s scaring her into doing what he wants.” Both Luca and Scott looked to Steve. Steve cut you a glance. “I really don’t like this either but that was his condition. And we have just under an hour to decide what we’re going to do.”

“Fuck,” Luca said. “That would start a war. Barnes can’t go around snatching someone else’s wife. The families would never accept that.”

“I don’t think that’s Barnes’ idea either,” Steve replied. “Not his style. But very much Hansen’s.”

“Hansen wants your wife?” Scott shook his head. “Then what? That would start a war between the families for sure.”

“I don’t think Hansen intends on sticking around for the outcome,” Steve said. “He likely thinks he can grab her and go.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You knew Steve wasn’t seriously considering the trade. That meant coming up with a plan where Steve kept you and got Dyson back too. No matter the plan, it was dangerous.

“You up for this?” Luca asked you in a calm voice.

For Dyson? “Yes, I am,” you told them with no hesitation.

Luca grinned. “Okay then. We need an airtight plan because whether or not he can get his hands on Mrs. Rogers, he’s not planning on leaving Dyson alive.”

What?

“Agreed,” Steve said.

“And we have some friends here to help,” Luca went on. “Friends with skills that are perfect for this.”

“The ones Yelena is with?” you asked.

“I know how you feel about Belova,” Steve said, “but she’s not that experienced.”

“The ones with her are,” Luca told them. “There are five of them and all but Aisha were fucking special forces.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not trusting just anyone with her,” Steve told them.

“Well, you can’t go,” Luca pointed out.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You can’t go,” Luca reiterated. “Hansen thinks she’s sneaking out to come make the trade. They see you and they’ll know it’s a trap.”

Color rose from Steve’s collar, darkened his face.

“You have to be here, and you know this,” Luca told him.

“I’m supposed to just send my wife to Hansen’s knowing I might never see her again?” Steve was getting more upset by the second. “Entrust her to people I don’t know?”

Luca put his hands on his hips. “Or we could keep her here. Sacrifice Dyson.”

“No!” you shouted. It wasn’t an option.

“That’s where we are,” Luca told him. “But we can make this work. I’ll call Clay right now, okay?”

After a moment, Steve nodded. “Give us a minute, okay?”

Luca and Scott left you alone with Steve. And Steve looked like he himself was facing the gallows.

Yeah, you were scared. But you had to try and save Dyson. From Hansen. From Neal.

“This is all on me,” Steve said, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “I want you to realize this. Yeah, I lost my temper about that incident, but it doesn’t seem so important now. And now I know Neal was the rat. He instigated all of it.”

Sliding a hand over your cheek, he gazed into your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about it when Dyson and I get home,” you told him.

You were shaking but you were holding up. You could do this.

“If Dyson trusts the ones Luca is talking about,” Steve said, “then I will too.”

“I trust Yelena too,” you told him. “And she will be reinstated when we get back.”

Steve nodded. “But I fucking hate this. This is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. I’m going to lose my mind until this is over. Until you’re back here.”

Now he’d have an idea what you went through. The play of anger and fear in his expression kept you from enjoying it.

“I need you to promise me something. I know how you feel about Dyson and Yelena. I know you love them. But if things look to be going wrong or you don’t see a way to get everyone out, you get out of there. Even if it means you’re the only one who gets out. Even if it means you have to leave them behind.”

You just stared at him.

“Hansen wants you,” Steve reminded you. “He’s not going to harm you. Remember that.”

Leaning in, he kissed your lips. A seeking kiss, gentle and slow, almost as if he were asking permission. You answered it, a kiss to remind yourself that Steve wasn’t all bad. You still cared about him.

The desperation in his kiss grew. You could taste it. Steve was kissing you like it was goodbye. You didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hand on your face.

“Come back to me,” Steve whispered against your lips. “Please.”

Easing back, you gaze up at him. “I will. And we have a lot to talk about when I do.”

Both of you smiled at that. Your usual marital fighting seemed like a happy memory next to this.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back, just in case you didn’t see him again.

And just maybe you meant it. The way your heart squeezed in your chest made you wonder…

***

You scrambled down the road like a scared little runaway, trying to play the part as Luca had explained it to you. The sun was going down and according to your phone, you had just under 20 minutes to reach Hansen’s house.

A small SUV pulled up next to you as you walked. Your Uber. When the driver asked if you were Mrs. Rogers, you nodded, climbed in the back.

The driver’s blue-eyed gaze met yours in the rearview mirror. He was a bigger guy with spiky blond hair and round glasses. He smiled before turning his attention to the road ahead.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

It was a strange question.

“I’m… fine,” you told him.

He nodded, driving along.

“I’m Jensen,” he explained. “Dyson’s a good friend.”

That got your attention. “Are you one of the friends Yelena’s been staying with?”

“Yeah,” he explained. “She’s going to be there with us. We’ve got a plan. We’ll do everything we can to get you and Dyson back home shortly.”

“Thank you,” you told him. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Hey,” Jensen said. “Dyson’s helped us out a couple of times. We owe him.”

It was good to know that they cared about getting Dyson out safely as much as you did.

“We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” he explained. “I’ll pull up and you just hop out, okay? I’ll stash the car and take up my position.”

“Okay,” you told him.

“You’ll need to leave your piece in here with me,” he went on.

“What?”

“Your gun,” Jensen said. “Put it in the duffel bag back there. It’s my stuff. I’ll make sure you get it back.”

You’d almost forgotten about it honestly, pulling it free of your jeans. “Why can’t I take it?”

He smiled. “Yelena said you shot him once.”

“I did.” You were proud of that. Having the gun made you feel a little safer.

“There are too many things that could go wrong here,” he said. “I promise I’ll get it back to you.”

You nodded, knowing you had no choice but to trust these people. Dyson trusted them…

Unzipping the bag, you made sure the safety was on and carefully put your gun in. There was another handgun in there among some other ordinary looking belongings. A keyring caught your eye. On it was a small picture of Jensen with a pretty woman and the cutest little girl. On the other side the words “Best Buy” were engraved into the pewter.

“Is this picture your family?” you asked, zipping the bag again.

“Yeah,” he said with a wide smile. “My fiancée and our daughter Charlie.”

“They are beautiful,” you told him.

“Thank you. We have a baby on the way,” he told you. “I’m trying to get her to the altar before he or she gets here though.”

“Let’s make sure that happens,” you told him with conviction.

Jensen nodded.

“Is there anything else I need to know going in?” you asked him.

“Just be yourself,” Jensen told you. “You have friends. Remember that. You’ll know me and Yelena anyway. Dyson. Follow our lead. We’ll get you home.”

Five minutes later, Jensen dropped you off in front of an older house. It was an isolated location with no neighbors in sight anyway. You did just what Jensen told you and hopped out, not looking back at him. You weren’t taking your eyes off the impressive house before you.

You walked along the stone path leading to the front door. Just off to the side of the house you saw Dyson’s Cadillac, Neal’s SUV. It was surreal and you struggled to keep your knees from knocking.

Neal was the asshole you believed him to be. He sold all of you out. He sold you out.

But the worst thing he did was try to take Dyson from you. You focused on him.

Dyson was yours. Your caretaker. Your friend. Your father.

It would be a cold day in hell when you let Neal or Hansen take him away from you.

Before your foot hit the first step, the front door of that house opened. Hansen.

Well, you didn’t want your audience to be disappointed. You took your time climbing the steps, your back straight, your chin up. When you stepped on the porch, only then did you meet his gaze. You gazed at the huge beast of a man as if he bored you. As if he were beneath you.

Hansen didn’t appear to be moving from the doorway to let you in. He grinned at you.

Then you stopped.

“Planning to pat me down and check for weapons?” you asked him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes. “Take me to Dyson. Now.”

Hansen stepped back, motioning you in with his hand. You walked by him, into a living room with a high ceiling and elegant furnishings. Nothing out of place in the opulent room.

Well, just one thing that didn’t belong there. A tiny purse, its purple leather standing out on the sand-colored upholstery. Why did Hansen have that?

You kept walking until you reached the kitchen. You met Dyson’s gaze first. He was bound to the chair, his face bloody and bruised. He was gagged. The steel in his gaze gave you courage. Told you without words that he trusted you.

Neal stood up from another chair at the kitchen table and he didn’t look much better. The only difference was Neal’s wounds had little time to scab over, to set in. You grinned at Neal.

“You look beaten down. How does it feel?” you asked him.

“Fuck you,” Neal spat, taking a menacing step closer to you.

You didn’t move.

“That’s some big talk for someone whose husband locked her in her room for disobeying him,” Neal said, cutting a glance at Hansen who stood behind you.

Hansen chuckled. “You couldn’t handle her any better than Rogers could.”

You flinched when you felt his hand at your lower back. Not a barely there, tentative touch. No, it was possessive. When it moved lower, you moved before he could touch your ass. You glared up at the bastard, hoping he couldn’t tell you were fucking terrified on the inside.

“The only one allowed to handle me at all is my husband,” you told him, raising your chin. “Now, Dyson goes back home. With me.”

Hansen’s grin didn’t subside. “That wasn’t the deal, princess. It’s a trade. Him for you. The only terms I’ll accept.”

“If you know me so well, you know I have no intention of ever making a trade,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Hansen cocked a brow at you. “Then what are your intentions? Your husband doesn’t know you’re here not that he ever knows what you’re doing.”

You tried your best to look bored. It was true. But having the enemy reference the fact that you didn’t appear to respect your own husband made you pause. You didn’t like it.

“Belova isn’t here to protect you,” Hansen went on. “You don’t appear to be armed. You don’t have a lot of options.”

Yelena was somewhere close. You hoped.

“We’re wasting time here,” Neal told him, his usually annoying self. You froze when he pulled out his gun, a Glock like yours, and pointed it at the back of Dyson’s head. “She goes to Barnes, we get rid of Dad here, and head over there to finish this. Rogers’ camp is in chaos right now. Let’s hit them while they’re weak.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.” You glared at him. “Steve thought so much of you. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. And this is what you’re doing?”

“It is.” Neal’s finger twitched around the trigger. Your heart raced in fear as Dyson’s gaze met yours, his gaze calm, like he was willing you to hang on. “Once we get rid of your husband, Barnes gets you and for that, he’s going to help me start my own family. I won’t be a soldier anymore. I’ll get everything I ever wanted.”

“Barnes?” You laughed humorlessly at that. “And you believed him?”

The man’s gaze moved from Dyson to you.

“That worked out so well for Banner,” you taunted him.

The gun in Neal’s hand lowered, wavered. Good. You were drawing his attention away from Dyson…

Before you could blink, Hansen pulled a gun and shot Neal in the face. Bone, brains, and gore splattered Dyson in his chair as your ears rang from the shot. Neal just dropped to the floor.

Now you were afraid. From the apprehension you read in Dyson’s gaze now, he was too.

Hansen tucked his gun away as casually as he might a phone or his wallet. He turned what he must have thought was a charming smile on you.

“Does this mean I’m not going to Barnes?” you had to ask. “Was anything he said true?”

“It was true,” he told you. “Barnes has everything carefully planned out. And he can have your husband, But he’s not getting you. That was never part of my plan.”

“How does that work with him being your boss?” you wanted to know. “Or are you betraying him the same way Neal was betraying Steve?”

That grin widened behind his mustache. “That’s just the way this little world of ours works. You’re either born into a family like you and Rogers or you make your own way like Neal here. But you’ve got to be smarter than that.”

“So where does that leave us?” You moved closer to Dyson, not turning your back on Hansen. He could have shot Dyson just as easily.

“You already know the answer to that,” Hansen told you, his gaze shifting from Dyson back to you. “A trade. You can send him home right now. But you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes. But inside, your fear was escalating. You remember the horrible things Yelena told you. What Hansen did to her. She was brave and fierce, more so than you. You didn’t want to consider what the asshole had planned for you.

You knew Dyson’s friends were with her. But Yelena herself? She was terrified of him, and she was right to feel that way.

Could Jensen get you out then?

Here’s hoping.

“Fine,” you told him. “Let him go. The trade isn’t complete until I have absolute proof that he’s back home.”

“Fine,” Hansen repeated slowly. The look he cut you told you he didn’t quite buy your performance. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he used it to cut through Dyson’s bonds, allowing him to pull the gag away himself.

Dyson eyed you warily. “Don’t do this,” he said calmly. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, please don’t.”

Before you could say anything, Hansen blew out an exhale, looking more annoyed than anything. When he turned to look behind him, you saw the man standing there. He was tall as Steve with broad shoulders. The man was a little older with threads of white in his dark hair, in his beard. His grin gave him a very roguish charm.

“Oh, I think it’s a pretty good plan,” the man said, his voice deep whiskey. “We’re going to have to change it up though. We’re here to take Dyson and Mrs. Rogers back home.”

“That doesn’t work for me, Clay,” Hansen told him. “Now, I’m going to kill you. Then I kill Dyson. Then I’m taking Mrs. Rogers with me. And then we call it a day.”

From behind the man he called Clay, you saw Jensen step out. Your heart swelled to see Yelena, her concerned gaze on you. Both held handguns, assessing the situation. Yelena looked so small next to the two dangerous men.

Without looking, Hansen reached for his gun. A bullet hit the floor at his feet, had him jumping slightly in alarm before moving to put his hands back up and in view.

Yelena’s expression was pure rage.

“Hey, Lena,” Hansen crooned. “Miss me?”

You shook your head at her. Don’t answer him. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

You inched closer to Dyson until you put yourself between him and Hansen. Yelena’s eyes widened on you. But you knew what you were doing. You weren’t about to let Hansen kill Dyson.

Hansen’s laugh didn’t appear to phase the trio in front of you, but it chilled your blood. “I’m not exactly alone here,” he told all of you.

A tap at the kitchen window behind you got your attention. An armed soldier in body armor was holding an assault rifle outside, his eyes cold as he gazed at you. Two more soldiers crept up the hallway from the opposite direction to the kitchen, also armed with rifles.

Clay eyed them warily as your fear escalated. What happened now?

“They aren’t alone either,” a familiar voice said from behind Jensen and Yelena.

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes to see your husband making his way into the room, his gaze on you. He didn’t stop until he reached you. The expression he wore scared you because you’d never seen that before. It was terrifying. Only the emotion in his blue eyes revealed the relief he appeared to be feeling at reaching you.

You couldn’t help it. You ran to Steve’s side, wrapping your arms around his waist, clinging to him.

“Ballsy,” Hansen told him. “Let me guess. You’ve got this place surrounded.”

Steve’s nod was curt. “We’re done here.”

The smile faded from Hansen’s face. His gaze moved over you as you clung to your husband. It was covetous, angry.

“I say when we’re done here,” Hansen said coldly.

All you saw was the large hand that pulled the handgun out, pointing at Dyson who still sat in the chair where he’d been sitting the entire time. You saw the bastard’s finger at the trigger. Fast as you could move, you jumped in front of Dyson’s chair just as the shot rang out.

The room spun around you violently, as hands grabbed you. Dyson’s. Your husband’s. You saw your blood splatter the front of Dyson’s shirt and tie, more gore on top of Neal’s, as he watched in horror. It felt like someone punched you in the shoulder really, really hard.

There was a blur of activity in that moment all around you, but you weren’t aware of anything but the pain that was starting to come on and the sound of your husband dropping to his knees behind you. Crimson bloomed at the front of his white dress shirt and his hand flew to his chest as he went down.

Yes, you’d been shot.

But fear and guilt choked you to realize your husband took the brunt of it.

“Steve!” you screamed.

PS: Just on my fic posts, I’m adding a tip function. In honor of the kitty we just lost in February, I’m donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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