Pairing: Steve Harrington (priest!Steve) x f!reader
Summary: "Stolen glances. Eyes held for just a moment too long. A thumb that brushes along your bottom lip when the tiny wafer is placed delicately on your tongue..." Months of palpable tension finally snap when you find the young priest, Steve, taking his own confession.
Tags/warnings: Smut! (Minors, STAY AWAY! 18+ only! Shoo! Shoo!); blasphemy (literally); oral (m!receiving); unprotected p in v; mutual pining; forbidden romance; priest!Steve AU; characters are adults; cursing (but if you're reading this, that's the tamest of the sins)
Words: 1178
A/N: Eep! This may be the nastiest concept I've written. I was just sitting there listening to some shmexy 80s tunes and WHAM! this one hit me like a ton of bricks. Well, maybe it had something to do with the songs... (The songs: Father Figure + Like A Prayer) 😇🙏
Fic below the cut or on AO3
Stolen glances. Eyes held for just a moment too long. A thumb that brushes along your bottom lip when the tiny wafer is placed delicately on your tongue. Tension between you and the new, youthful priest, Steve, had been palpable for months. And each Sunday when you dutifully attended mass, you were certain that the sinful thoughts that saturated your mind could never be absolved.
It is the Sunday evening before a community potluck. You had been asked to deliver your family’s contribution for the event before nighttime settled over the tiny town. As you approach, anticipation builds within your veins; you know the building will be empty save for the one person your body aches for most.
The local church stands righteously in the darkness; only dim lights glow through its stained-glass windows. The old door creaks when you push it inwards, finding candles casting shadows over wooden walls and a vaulted ceiling.
Making your way down the carpeted aisle, you follow the corridor of golden candlelight towards the back of the small church. Incense lingers in the air, and painted crosses line an altar draped in white linen. A Bible lies open on the surface, its passages left abandoned in the dim light.
Then a murmur sounds from nearby. A mahogany booth towers in the corner, from which echoes of a sacrament are recited by a familiar voice, deep and low.
Something pulls at you from inside. A heat crawls through your chest and pools low in your belly.
Setting down the casserole in hand, you make your way, quiet as a mouse, to the confessional. A dark curtain hangs in front of its entrance, hiding its occupant away. The whispered sacrament—Confession—grows louder as you near, but a shift in weight above a loose floorboard abruptly halts the speaker. Standing still before the curtain, you hold your breath, heart pounding against your rib cage.
A swish of fabric and the velvety material is slowly withdrawn. Handsome features shrouded in shadows greet you with surprise. Pert lips part into a silent ‘O’, and chestnut hair hangs loose across his forehead. His hazel eyes darken as he drinks in your figure before travelling upwards to meet your gaze. That pull inside you grows stronger; it dampens your core.
You take a cautious step forward to where he sits on a wooden bench within. He doesn’t stop you. Instead, his breathing picks up, silently emboldening you to draw near. The curtain falls closed behind you as you move, haloing your form in the light that filters in around it.
Tentatively you reach out a hand, yet you know he will do nothing to stop you. Eyes transfixed on his, you curl your fingers around his belt buckle, other hand coming up to assist. The metal clinks softly as it comes undone. Heat blooms scarlet across his cheeks—a stark contrast to the sacred white band encircling his neck. Deftly, you work him free from his black trousers and languidly sink to your knees. His desire hangs heavy against his belly.
His head bends to keep your gazes locked as he watches you grip his base. A hitch of breath. A subtle kick of his seated hips. All wordless cues to how responsive he is to your touch.
Through a fan of lashes, you observe how brilliant hazel irises become swallowed by lust when you take him into your mouth. A low, guttural sound resonates off the walls of the cramped space as you roll your tongue and hollow your cheeks. One hand strokes what cannot be held inside your mouth while the other scratches lightly along his still-clothed thigh. You can feel his muscles tense—building and building as you bob your head. A large palm moves to caress the soft skin of your cheek, thumb stroking delicately along the ridge of bone. The tender motion keeps your eyes trained on his as you study how his face contorts with pleasure over every movement you make.
His hips then begin to gently thrust up to meet you, forcing him deeper into your throat. You take what’s given, humming at the sensation—the vibration is all that’s needed for him to careen over the edge.
His head throws back as hands fly upwards to catch it. Fingers fist into perfectly styled locks, and his eyes screw shut. The column of his throat bobs as he moans against the white collar fastened snugly around his neck. His hips stutter and press against your face while his spend runs down your throat. The scene is lewd and forbidden—anyone could walk in at any time. But this moment has been building for months, raw and inevitable.
With chest heaving, he finally looks down at you between his knees. You pull off him, dragging your tongue along his sensitive length before swiping two fingers across the corner of your lips.
Wide hands on the backs of your elbows guide you to stand; those warm palms slide around your waist as he closes the distance with a searing kiss. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against your swollen lips before dipping his tongue back between them.
You shift to straddle his lap, knees planted roughly on either side of his hips against the wooden seat. The kiss grows fiercer, and you grind down against his exposed length, trying to stoke the fire that’s ablaze between your legs.
His hands grope along your curves, teeth nipping the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. You tilt your head to allow him better access, using his broad shoulders to leverage your movements against him.
Hot breath tickles your neck. “I never wanted to take the cloth,” he confesses. “The decision was made for me.” He seals his admission with a kiss placed against the salty beads of sweat that line your skin. Your hands find his hair, nails scraping lightly along his scalp. You feel him come alive between your thighs once again.
“Run away with me,” you breathe, resting your forehead against his.
He tilts you back gently, darkened eyes hopeful and searching.
Yours reflect nothing but sincerity.
Something ignites in him then. His hands shift to your behind. They ruck up your dress before two fingers find your clothed center. His touch draws a whimper from your chest.
“Fuck,” he mutters again as he dips inside the fabric and slips his fingers through the wetness gathered there.
With haste, your panties are pulled to the side, and you raise your hips to accommodate.
Then he is staring back into your eyes. You reach down and take hold of his heavy girth in your palm. “Yes?” you whisper, the question running deeper than the here and now.
“Yes,” he nods before kissing you with an intensity that conveys every possible meaning of that simple word.
A shared moan envelopes you as you join as one. It doesn’t take long before you are meeting him thrust for thrust with arms wrapped around one another and promises for the future falling longingly from his lips like a prayer.
*hides* Thank you for reading! ♡
Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist
Kinktober Day 30: Peccatiphilia (fetish for sinning) and Parthenophilia (fetish for virginal partners)
Pairing: priest!Steve Rogers x fem!reader
Words: ~3.7k
Summary: Meeting you might be the greatest test to his vows he’s ever faced.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (loss of virginity, sex in a confessional, unprotected vaginal sex, praise kink), lots of religious themes, some angst, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: Oh boy, I want to wreck this man real bad. My blasphemy fetish popped all the way out for this one, and I’m not even a little sorry.
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!
The first time Steve saw you, he should have known you were going to test him in every way imaginable.
Seeing you in that red dress in the front pew at your friend’s baby’s baptism stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years, the sound of your laughter and the way you smiled distracting him so much he almost forgot the words of the benediction he was giving. Since you didn’t partake of communion he was at least bolstered with the hope that he’d never have to see you after that day, the sight of the few extra inches of your thighs he got when you adjusted the hem of your skirt making his body ache in a way he thought was no longer possible.
Then you started coming to mass, and he could’ve died.
The first time it happened he thought it must have been a fluke, even as he stumbled through his homily and tried not to stare openly at you as you sat quietly in the back of the chapel with a small smile on your face. He couldn’t fathom what you were doing there, and when you disappeared once he released the congregation he was sure he had imagined you.
But there you were the next week, moving up a few rows and drawing irritated stares from other members of the congregation when they got a look at the low cut dress you were wearing. You still didn’t take the sacrament, though, staying in your seat and still giving him that knowing smile as everyone else filtered into the aisle to take communion. He couldn’t stop himself anymore, he had to talk to you.
“Hi there.” He managed to make it to the back of the sanctuary before you had a chance to exit, meeting you at the door and stopping you with a handshake and a bashful smile you couldn’t get enough of. “I’ve seen you hiding back there and wanted to check in. I’m Father Steve.”
“Ah, you’re a cool priest, then.” You winked at him when he gave you a soft laugh, letting the flow of the crowd moving past you press you closer to him until he was sucking in a sharp breath. He muttered your name under his breath when you told it to him, letting go of your hand reluctantly and telling you he hoped to see you again next week before watching you walk away with a deep sigh.
It was like that every Sunday for the next few weeks. As soon as he would finish his sermon he would rush to the back of the sanctuary so he could make sure to meet you when you made your exit. Your talks kept getting longer and longer, Steve trying to draw out more information about your life from you while trying to make it seem like he wasn’t prying, but he just wanted to know you, for some strange reason. After a few weeks of that he was ready to ask you some deeper questions.
“So, I’ve noticed you never take the sacrament.” He glanced at you through his lashes as you stood close to him again, for some reason always having trouble meeting your eyes, even when the movement of the congregation pushed you so close your chests were almost touching.
“Oh, I don’t think this is really the place for us to have that discussion, Steve.” Your smile was almost teasing as you toyed with the hem of your skirt and he fought to keep his eyes from scanning the exposed skin of your thighs.
“Maybe, I want to know, though.” Your laugh made his chest flutter, the desire to reach out and grip your waist almost overwhelming him. “Do you have to leave? We can talk when this is finished.”
“I have no plans, Steve.” You reached out and gave his arm a squeeze, and he had to lean on the railing behind him so he didn’t collapse. “I’ll meet you in the garden.”
He had to try so hard not to shove the rest of the congregation out the door, not caring at all about the little anecdotes each of the avid churchgoers kept trying to foist on him. As soon as the last one was gone he was rushing back to his quarters to strip out of his chasuble and change into a plain tab collar, doing his best to calm himself down as he strode out to join you in the garden. The way you made him feel was wildly inappropriate, but he just kept telling himself he was ministering to you and that seemed to at least tamp down his guilt.
You were sitting on one of the stone benches when he found you, the autumn breeze making your skirt flutter around your legs when you stood to greet him with another one of those heartbreaking smiles. Steve couldn’t stop himself from returning it when you started to walk together, the urge to guide you with a hand on the small of your back tickling his brain until he had to shove his hands in his pockets.
“So, no communion.” He gave you that shy smile when you laughed for him again, gazing at you sideways as the two of you strolled side by side. “What’s that about?”
“I dunno Steve, feels a little disrespectful to partake of the body of Christ when I’m not even sure I believe in that sort of thing.” You kicked at a leaf that blew in front of you absentmindedly as you peeked at him.
“You’re not sure? Is that why you started coming here then?” He tried to keep himself from sounding too eager, wanting nothing more than to find out exactly what it was that had brought you to him.
“No, that was something else.” You didn’t elaborate, letting the silence he left for you drag on until he felt obligated to fill it with something.
“Do you even believe in God then?” The wind was pulling at your skirt again, and he almost groaned when he thought he caught a glimpse of your panties.
“Honestly?” You bit your lip when you turned a little to face him, rubbing your arms against the chill in the air. “It just never really felt like a question that I needed answered.”
“Oh, wow.” He couldn’t stop himself from giving a scandalized laugh at that, running a hand through his hair and tossing his head back. “I think there’s like, two billion people alive and so many dead who would disagree with you on that.”
“Well fuck them.” You beamed when he laughed even harder, knocking your shoulder against his playfully. “I just feel like, even if it did exist, why would some all powerful being give a shit about whether I’m reading the right book, or going to the right building, or fucking people I’m not married to?”
“And that’s something you need?” This was dangerous talk, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“I don’t know if I need it, but I don’t see why I should deprive myself of pleasure.” You shot him a mysterious look when he sucked in a sharp breath. “Who would benefit from that, Father?”
He didn’t have a chance to come up with an answer to that when a sharp gust of wind blew against you at the same time your heel rolled in a small dip in the ground, knocking you into Steve with a gasp so he had to wrap his arms around you to keep you from falling. Your face was so close to his, he could’ve dipped his head just a little and his lips would be pressed right against yours, his hands digging into your waist as your breath mingled and he considered brushing his nose over yours.
“Steve?” Your palms were warm where they rested on his chest, your eyes fixed on his until he let his gaze drop to your lips with a sigh. “I should go.”
“Right.” He gave it a beat before releasing you, letting his fingers trail down your arm until you took a step back and disconnected from him. “Let’s talk more, though. Dinner Wednesday? I’ll cook and everything.” He was too fascinated by you and the feelings you brought out of him to leave you alone, as much as he knew he should.
“I’d like that very much.” He couldn’t take it when you smiled at him like that, it made him want to give up everything he’d worked so hard for. “I’ll see you then.”
He watched you leave with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding when you turned the corner and he lost sight of you. As soon as he had regulated himself he was storming back to his quarters and searching frantically, sighing with relief when he found the cigarettes he’d stashed mindlessly. He hadn’t even smoked in almost five years, but that had always been the one vice he allowed himself, and he figured it was better than what thoughts of how warm your body had felt pressed to his might drive him to. What was he going to do having you in his apartments for a whole evening?
The sight of you on Wednesday made all those anxious and guilty thoughts fly right out of his head, a warm grin splitting his face when you handed him a bottle of wine and pressed a hand to his chest with a certain air of affection.
“Just so you know, I’m not interested in any debating.” You let him take your coat and moved to the dining room, humming at the sight of the meal he’d made before sinking into a chair. “But I’ll answer your questions, Steve.”
“I don’t want to debate either. I just want to talk.” Steve sat next to you with a deep sigh, opening the wine you’d brought and pouring you a glass as you got yourself some food. “So, we covered the big God question, feel like diving right into the deep stuff or should we build to it?”
“Why don’t you get me a little drunk before popping the big questions, Steve?” You took a sip of wine before leaning a little closer to him with a small laugh, bumping his calf with the toe of your shoe when he gave you that bashful grin that you loved.
So he asked you all the small questions he’d been dying to know: where did you grow up? What did you do for work? Did you live in the city? Every answer he tucked away in his heart like a little treasure, utterly entranced by you and desperate for any knowledge of you he could glean.
“Well, we killed this.” He set aside the empty bottle after pouring the dregs into your glass, feeling flushed and warm from the alcohol as he scooted closer to you without thinking. “What d’you think, dove? Ready for a big question?”
“Dove?” You beamed at him and reached out to shove his shoulder playfully, laughing lightly when he blushed and spluttered a little. “No, it’s ok, I like it, Father.” You bit your lip when he gasped at you using his title, leaning your head on your hand and gazing at him with soft affection. “Ask away.”
“Alright, I’ve got one.” He took a swig of wine to strengthen himself. “What do you think is going to happen when you die?”
“God, that’s a doozy.” You leaned back in your seat and shook your head at him. “Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” He leaned closer, gazing at you and licking his lips as you kept shaking your head at him. “That’s so sad. What’s the point, then?”
“There is no point, and isn’t that wonderful?” You leaned close to him, too, your faces mere inches apart as you gazed at him with sparkling eyes. “Isn’t it better if we show kindness and charity if there’s no giant cosmic reward hanging over our heads? Isn’t falling in love more meaningful if we’re choosing to share even just a few breaths of our short existence with someone else, rather than tying ourselves down for eternity?”
“That’s beautiful.” You were beautiful, he could feel himself getting lost in your eyes, wanting to reach out and trace the curve of your cheek with his thumb. “Where did you come from?”
“That feels like a question for next week.” Just like that the spell was broken, you rising to your feet and grinning at Steve before moving to grab your coat. “This was lovely, Steve, think we should make this a regular thing.”
And you did, Wednesday evenings becoming your nights. The two of you would eat and drink and talk into the small hours of the morning, moving from the kitchen to the dining room to the couch as you grew closer and closer. When you left he always lit up right away, the increasingly lingering touches and small signs of affection making his whole body warm and aching as he fought against feelings he didn’t want to think about.
After almost two months of it he was ready to crack, one night finding him emptying another bottle of wine all by himself in the confessional after practically devouring you before you had left for the night. He couldn’t fight it anymore, finally admitting to himself that every moment he spent with you he didn’t give a single care about any of the vows he’d taken.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned.” He sagged against the wall of the booth as his breath sawed in his chest, chugging the wine and ripping his collar open as he tried to keep from sobbing. “I’ve wanted to abandon my flock and the church, my heart feels like it’s being split in two. I’ve had horrible, impure thoughts. All the time, she’s the only thing I can think about. Fuck, I think I’m falling in love with her. I need your guidance, Lord, what do I do?”
God was silent. Steve felt something in his chest break as he started weeping, burying his face in his hands after dropping the empty bottle as he wallowed in the empty silence that surrounded him. He froze when he heard the echo of footsteps suddenly, holding his breath as they drew closer until he could see the shadow of someone’s feet under the door.
“Steve?” Your voice was like a shot to the heart, he choked on a sob when your fingers scraped softly over the wood of the confessional door. “I left my coat in your apartment and was worried when you weren’t there. Are you ok?”
He couldn’t answer you, his fist shoved into his mouth to hopefully muffle the noises of distress that were threatening to bubble from his chest. You moved to the other side of the booth, pulling the curtain aside and sinking into the bench as you tried to catch a glimpse of Steve through the screen.
“You asked me why I started coming to mass.” You leaned against the screen and sighed softly. “But I think you already know the answer. I know I talked about kindness and charity, but I’m really wicked and selfish.” You heard his breath catch through the screen and gripped the fabric of your skirt so tight your knuckles were aching. “The first time I saw you at that baptism all I could think about was what it would be like to feel your body pressed close to mine. How it might feel to take you inside me and lose myself in you.” His breathing was ragged from the other side of the booth, your own matching his as you unburdened yourself of everything you’d been feeling for months. “I want to ruin you, Steve, to defile you and make you question everything you thought you knew. It’s all I can think about.”
“Dove, come here.” His voice was low and wrecked as he called to you, his eyes wild and dark when you wrenched the door open and stood there lit by the soft moonlight. “Oh, I need you, please.” He groaned when you stepped forward and reached out to cup his cheek, leaning into your touch and purring when you stroked his face gently. “I’m yours to ruin.”
You let out a soft growl as you climbed into his lap, slamming the door to the confessional behind you and framing his face in your hands as you finally pressed your lips against his after all this time. Steve drank you in like oxygen as your tongue slid between his lips, his arms winding around you and drawing you close as he lost himself in the feel of your body finally so near to his.
He whined when your hands slid under his open collar, the feeling of your touch against his bare skin igniting a fire in his veins that had him pulling away from you to draw a much needed breath. You used the opportunity to press your lips all over his face, ripping his shirt open the rest of the way and tearing it down his shoulders as you rolled your body against his.
“Oh, Steve.” You moaned once you finally got a look at him, your fingers trailing over his chest and down to his abdomen as you rubbed your nose over his and he breathed heavily. “You’re so beautiful. What kind of cruel god would force you to hide, hmm? You deserve to be appreciated and worshipped, not hidden away from the world.”
“Christ.” The blasphemy fell from his lips like nothing when your fingers trailed over the outline of his hardened cock, leaning forward and burying his face in your throat as he let out a wanton groan. “Let me see you.”
You pressed your lips to his temple as you drew the sleeves of your dress down your arms after unbuttoning it, letting the fabric flutter to the floor as Steve gazed at your naked body with deep longing. He didn’t know if he really deserved everything you said, but he knew he was going to spend every day of the rest of his life showering you in adoration.
“Steve.” Your breath left you in a soft gasp when he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, winding your fingers through his hair and holding him close as he whimpered softly into your flesh. “I want you inside me, are you ready?”
“Yes, oh yes.” He nuzzled himself between your breasts as you started to undo his fly, gazing reverently at you through his lashes and trailing his hands up your sides as he rolled his hips under you. “I’ve never done this before.”
“At all?” You grinned when he shook his head, dipping your hands into his slacks and pulling him out slowly as he sucked in a harsh breath through his nose. “Oh, I love that. I wanna be everything to you, Steve.”
He forgot everything he had been about to say when you sank down on him, his eyes fluttering closed as your snug wet heat wrapped tightly around him for the first time. Rapture was the only word to describe it, he didn’t think he’d ever really been alive until this moment. How could he ever have thought of this as a sin? Even if someone had walked in right now and found the two of you naked and tangled together in the confessional, he didn’t think he’d apologize. He wanted to live inside you from now on, and you hadn’t even moved yet.
Then you did, and he was finished. Steve clutched desperately at your waist when you started slowly circling your hips, his lips and tongue tracing the swell of your chest as pathetic mewls and keens rose unbidden from his throat. You cooed when he pulled you closer, clenching around him when he started rolling his hips to meet yours.
He let himself go when you dragged his face back to yours, your breath mingling together in desperate pants as he started fucking up into you wildly. You braced your free hand against the screen as he dug his fingers into your hips, meeting each of his thrusts eagerly and fluttering around him as he started to hit you impossibly deep.
“Steve, more, harder.” You bit at his lips and groaned when he flicked his tongue against yours, your fingers wrapping painfully around the edges of the screen as he slammed you down on his cock. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Good boy.”
Steve whined when you called him that, driving up into you with abandon as he kept his eyes fixed on yours. You let out a sharp gasp and fluttered wildly around him suddenly and he froze, the way you were clamped around him making it impossible for him to move as something massive built in the pit of his stomach.
“Fuck, Steven.” You kissed him deeply as you felt him start to tremble under you, staring into his eyes and holding him close while he whimpered. “Come for me, now.”
His eyes rolled back in his skull as he exploded inside you, wailing into your mouth as you made soft soothing noises against his lips and smoothed your hand over his hair. He let his body jerk as he just kept coming, flooding you with thick ropes of his seed as his balls twitched wildly and his cock ached at the feel of your soft walls milking him for everything he could give you.
You kept giving him soft praises as he came down, kissing each tear that fell from his eyes gently and telling him how good he was and that you just wanted him to feel this way all the time. He was going to give up everything for you, he already knew. The only god he needed was the soft wet heat between your legs he was still buried in, every vow he’d ever taken long forgotten as he imagined all the ways he was going to worship you for the rest of his life.
Since Steve is so righteous, I can't help but imagine how would Priest!Steve be if he falls for a woman. I love a good scandal 😍
Title: At His Alter
Pairing: Priest!Steve x Reader
Summary: You fell in love with a man already belonging to someone else.
Words: 1.5k
Warning: Priest Steve ( I have very limited knowledge about Christianity and the Church, no offense is meant to the religion), the reader is non-religious, angsty I guess. No smut but still 18+
A/N: This is my entry for the absolutely charming @wiypt-writes CATFA 10th Anniversary Challenge. I chose the prompt "Faith, huh?" . Thank you so much for hosting sweetie and letting me enter on such short notice!
The sun was merging with the horizon in the distance, casting long rays that hit the stained glass and spilled its rainbow on the floor. You had always loved how the incense lingers in the air and seemed to stick to the pews. The musky scent of the candles and the wood had always calmed you, more so than the figure hanging on the cross did.
You waited behind for a while in the empty church, eyes fixed on his kneeling figure. Only a slight murmur of the words he whispered in secrecy to the Lord reached you, and you stepped back into the shadows to give him a little more privacy. His divine romance was one you wouldn’t interrupt.
“Join me.” His voice called, always even and smooth. He always knew when you were around. Your heels made sharp clicks as you walked and you stopped beside him, kneeling. Without looking at you, he handed you a candle and lit it with his own before closing his eyes and praying in silence. You looked at his face, the beauty that was etched in every line of it and memorized it to perfection. God was lucky to have such a beautiful servant.
He placed his candle at the alter and you did the same, taking the hand he offered you and standing. Even in heels he was taller than you, his shadow never-ending behind him.
“For someone who isn’t a believer, you are here an awful lot.” He teased, his blue eyes glittering in the light of the candles. You bashfully grinned, tucking your hair behind your ear and shrugging.
“I am a believer. Just not in this.” You said, pointing at the cross on the alter. He smiled bright, no offense in his gaze. He gestured to the pew and you followed him there, sitting beside him.
“What do you believe in then?” He asked, raising a brow at you. You looked him in the eyes, letting your gaze linger on his lips before dropping to the collar on his neck. His eyes met your again and yours turned misty.
“In love.” You whispered.
Father Rogers blinked at you before blushing, nodding his head slightly. Licking his lips, he opened his mouth and closed it again, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Faith is love.” He said at last, and the sun sank outside. The only light inside was of sputtering candles and you couldn’t look away from their shadows that danced on his face.
“Faith, huh?” You said softly, placing your palm in the space between you both and inching it towards him. “Would faith allow you to love freely? Is love really love when it is caged?”
His eyes were on your hand that was almost brushing his cassock and his own fingers twitched. He cleared his throat before tearing his eyes away from you, focusing on the figure of Christ on the cross as if reminding himself of who he was.
“It was not Him who said to bound our love. Man decided that and blamed it on Him. He loves us equally.” Father Rogers said, and your heart started beating erratically. How could he feel the love of whom he couldn’t see but not feel yours that you lay at his feet?
“Would He allow us to love too?” You asked him, crossing the last few inches between you both and placing your hand on his. He was cold to touch, and he jerked as if he’d take his hand away from underneath yours, but it stayed. He gulped audibly before looking at you again, eyes troubled and sad, and yet the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
“You must not judge Him for the choices I made.” He said. “I took the collar knowing what it would entail. I am His, and I cannot belong to anyone else.”
A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and slid down your cheek, his thumb coming to catch it quickly. You sniffled because it was unfair that you loved him so much. If God existed, why did he make you fall for a man who could never return those feelings? Why did God make love hurt so much?
“If god was a woman, this shit wouldn’t happen.” You said, voice heavy with feeling. A laugh bubbled in his throat at that, reverberating through the church.
He leaned towards you as if telling you a secret and you couldn’t help but mirror him, coming in closer to him than you thought to be ever possible. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think God is both.”
If love was an ocean, you drowned a little deeper. His hand moved under yours until it flipped, his fingers curving over yours, holding you with the same reverence with which he held his rosary. You instinctively squeezed tight, breath coming out sharply as you held his hand for the first time.
“When I first met you, I thought I was being tested.” He started, running a thumb over your knuckles. “I knew you weren’t here by choice. But you didn’t sneer at us. You respectfully went through the whole service. I was hoping you’d have gotten something fruitful because I never expected to see you again.”
You remembered that day, being brought here by your friends against your wishes. Religion and you didn’t mix, but you humored them that day.
“You were the most gorgeous priest I had ever seen.” You said, giggling a little. “My first thought on seeing you was ‘what a waste’.”
“Is that why you came back? Because I am gorgeous?” He asked.
“No. It was because I fell in love with you.”
Love at first sight didn’t exist, at least that is what you thought. But then you saw him. Cloaked in black and standing tall, you wondered if people worship him or their Lord. He spoke softly to everyone, talking to children and adults alike, smiling. When you followed your friends to him, he had talked to you as if he knew you since forever. You believed that. You believed that time hadn’t brought you together for the first time. His soul was familiar.
He was silent at your admission, this one confession weighing heavier on his soul than all others he heard in the booth. This was the first you had voiced it, but he knew. You didn’t try to hide it from your eyes and he read them like an open book.
“I was lost. Years ago, I fell in love and got my heart broken. It was then the Lord came to me. He loved unconditionally. There would be no heartbreak.” He said, looking into space.
“Did she cheat on you?” You asked, clutching his hand harder. His blue eyes met yours with past pain still lingering and you wondered if it could ever be washed.
“He died in battle and left me alone.”
Your lips parted at his words and your heart broke for him. Abandoning propriety, you shifted until his thigh touched yours and you could feel his side burning into you. Cupping his face you made sure he could look into your very soul, see your sorrow for him as well as the love you held.
“I am so sorry.” You whispered, lips centimeters away.
His eyes dropped to your lips and back to yours, a breath catching in his throat. He placed his palm over yours, pushing his face into your touch and savoring it.
“He would have approved of you. Bucky was always more popular with the ladies.” He said, sadly smiling.
You shook your head, always knowing that you would choose him over anyone. With one word from him, you would have laid on the sacred alter and let him ruin you with no remorse. He owned all of you without even trying.
“Will you ever love again?” You asked, heart stuttering in fear of his answer.
The night was falling fast and shrouded in the dark, his hand took yours and placed it on his heart. You felt it beating steadily below your palm and you wished to capture its rhythm and play it over and over as you sleep so every breath of yours was in sync with his.
“I already do.” He confessed, coming closer. “Father Rogers belongs to Him, and – and Steve belongs to you. I am sorry if all I can give you is the promise of the fact that my heart beats for you.”
Your tears fell swift, caught in his shoulder as he hugged you tight. There would be no nights spent in his embrace, though you had made love to him a million times over in your dreams. There would be no ring on your finger, only the collar on his throat. But as you wept on him, in his arms, you felt at peace. Love hurt so much, but it was a hurt like the sting of love bites left by a lover. Love hurt like the hug squeezed too tight. Love hurt like a mother’s womb expanding for its child. Love hurt like it did now.
“It will be enough.” You said, trembling as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “My love for you doesn’t need the warmth of your body. Just the company of your soul.”
Sinner; He was everything you’d want a preacher to be. He was humble and respectful; he was devout to his faith and set a good example to his flock.
One Shot;
Repent; You were a devout woman of faith, you had vowed to surrender your life, to seek his will in all things. You had studied his word, spent daily time in prayer. You had chosen your friends wisely, and supported and encouraged the others around you. You had shared the gospel message during sermon every Sunday, and suffered the trials with inner peace so that his light may shine forth through you. You had devoted yourself to him; to them.
✝ Summary: After being caught committing lustful acts, y/n is brought to the bishop for reconcile.
✝ A/n: Reader just turned 18, this is sinful, if you are offended, please don’t read. With that being said, after reading this, you best chug a gallon of holy water.
𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖌 𝖌𝖔𝖉
𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖚𝖕
Florence + the Machine, Big God
“No! Let me go!” the girl with a small voice ordered futily, the sound echoing off the large corridors as the nuns pulling her along payed no mind.
She fought against them, but it was useless, for it would only make their conviction worse. She had sinned, and like everything, sinning came with a grave price. Especially at the young woman’s academy.
She knew the bishop would be cross. Not only for her sin but for the timing. It was in the late hours of the night, but there she was, caught red-handed and in nothing but a snow-white bra and panty set, being dragged through the empty halls of the institution, everyone else sleeping.
Soon enough, she was faced with the large wooden double-doors of the bishop’s office, the lion knocker on the door seeming to snarl smugly at the girl as if it knew her fate.
One of the nun’s calloused old fingers wrapped around the handle clutched in the metal feline’s mouth, before knocking three times, the young girl counting absentmindedly.
A harsh and inharmonious voice called out an ill-toned ‘Come in’. The girl could have sworn she was on the verge of a panic attack. What she had done was wrong, but why did it feel so good?
The door was opened by one of her captors, walking her in before throwing her to the ground, her knees scraping up against the stone floors as she let out a pained yelp. She refused to look up, knowing that his eyes would be trained on her.
“Archbishop Rogers,” one of the nun’s began, “We caught this young lady committing an act of lust, and demand her to repent and save her faith plagued with desire.”
The man stood up from his working desk, setting his pen down, stepping in front of the trembling girl, almost anticipating her to look up at him.
“Leave us, sisters,”
His voice sent a tight shock through her spine, making her scramble to her knees, her ass resting on her heels, folding her hands in front of her, waiting as if she were about to be struck.
As soon as the great wooden doors closed, the bishop took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Tell me,” he starts, “what is your vice?”
She quivered at the question, embarrassed to admit what she had truly did wrong. But in knowing that the longer it took to get it out of her, the more torturous the punishment would be.
“I-” she cleared her throat, “I h-have committed a lustful act,” she swallowed hard as she heard the man above her sigh, beckoning her to continue, “I feel as if I’ve been consumed by demons. The devil has put thoughts into my head... scandalous thoughts... and it creates such a tension between my legs,” she took in a shaky breath, “I can’t help but touch myself to relieve the pain.”
His jaw clenched at her confession, crossing his arms.
“Do you understand the gravity of your actions?” he catechized her, making her nod her head ‘yes’.
“Yes, Archbishop Rogers, I do.” she now had the courage to look up at the man above her, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to be right by the Lord’s name,”
His crossed arms unraveled, one of his hands going down to cradle the girl’s cheek as she leaned into his touch like an obedient dog, desperate for the relief and to bear no malice to her God.
When she looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, full of hope, there was a glint of guilt.
“First, recite ‘Hail Mary’,” he commanded, her head now hanging low again, not noticing that his hands were now reaching his pants, the leather of his belt coming undone.
“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she began, “The lord is with thee-”
Her face was suddenly jerked up, his hand wrapping around her head before pushing her forward, her open mouth suddenly filled with the mass of his cock, only half of her mouth consuming it.
Her tongue squirmed as she tried to pull away, but the archbishop’s strength was unparalleled to hers, her struggles futile. Her hands went to his thighs to anchor herself.
“A demon had infiltrated your mind, my child,” he grunted, “I know how to rid you of this evil, but you must do as I say.”
She did the best she could to nod her head, before getting pulled back by her hair.
“Did I tell you to stop reciting?” he growled, “Don’t make me start you over,”
“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit-” she was pulled forward violently back on his cock, deeper his time, his tip touching the back of her throat as she gagged, tears welling up in her eyes, doing her best not to bite down.
She was pulled back once again, “of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary-”
Tears were now spilling down her face like a river, her face flushed as his cock seemingly went down her throat, the groans of her superior above her making her whimper.
“Mother of God, pray for us sinners now,”
He didn’t pull her in this time like she was expecting, “and at the hour of our death.” she finished, panting as she winced at the archbishop’s killer grip on her hair, “Amen.”
“Remarkable job,” he praised, before standing her up, taking her hand and leading her to his desk, before harshly pushing her down against it, smirking at her gasping reaction.
“P-Please? Haven’t we done enough?” she questioned, pleaded, earning her a slap on her ass, getting pulled up chest to back with him as his lips reached her ear.
“I am a vessel of God,” he hissed, “And he lives through me as I do him. I’m cleansing you...,”
His fingers made their way under the hem of her underwear, pulling them down, her dripping cunt coming into view, the archbishop squatting down after pushing her back on the desk. She whimpered at the feeling of his breath against her sex, Rogers letting out a dark chuckle before leaning forward, licking a torturous strip across her slit.
“God, you taste so good,” he groaned against her pussy, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” his rhetorical question made her clench.
She let out a soft moan at the sexual touch that was for once, not her own. He did this several more times before he stood straight back up again.
She whined when she felt his wide tip tease her entrance, circling his cock, the anticipation almost painful, his breathing echoing off the expanse of his large office. The moonlight shown through the stained glass windows, reflecting on the expanse of her back, making the archbishop all the more attracted to her seemingly supernatural glow.
“Plea-” she was cut off by a loud moan ripping its way through her throat, the feeling of being stretched out so far painful.
“Fuck! Fuck, you’re so tight-” he cursed into the open air, his hands latching onto her hips when he bottomed out.
He didn’t grace her with the opportunity to adjust, before he started to move, slowly, making her feel every ridge and vein.
“You better start praying,” he coaxed, her head nodding.
“O-Our father, who art in h-heaven, gl-glory be thy name,” she whined out, making the man behind her rut his hips harder and harder with each verse, “hallowed be th-thy name. Thy kingdom c-come,” she paused to catch her breath, earning her a harsh tug on her scalp.
“Didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled, bushing harder and faster inside her.
“thy will be done, on earth, as it is in h-heaven, g-give us this day our da-ily bread and... and...,” her brain was fogged with pleasure as he was getting pounded into, Rogers annoyed at her reluctance.
“Don’t tell me you forgot,” he degraded, “don’t make me start you over,” his pace slowing down.
She whined before starting again, “forgive us our tr-trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against u-us-”
She clenched around him, making him let out a genuine moan, and it was the most angelic sound she had ever heard, a coil tightening inside her as she cursed silently.
“Come on, princess, we can finish it together,” he offered.
“P-Please,” she gasped, gagging on air as she did her best to keep a level head and know what she was supposed to say next.
“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” they said in perfect sync.
“Come on, so close, just-” before he could finish, he released inside of her with a yell, his head thrown back in ecstasy.
The warm feeling in her gut made the coil inside her snap as well as she fell off the deep end, long and passionate moans leaving her lips as she trembled and tensed from such an earth-shattering orgasm.
The archbishop walked in front of the lit fireplace, poking at it with a fire poker before setting it down, the pointy end positioned over the fire.
The girl thought nothing of it as she sat in an armchair, covered in nothing but a blanket as she gave a dopey smile to the nude man approaching her. He picked her up, before sitting himself down, placing her in his lap.
Her head rested against his chest as he gently played with her hair.
“Am I cleansed?” she questioned, nudging herself closer into him.
After a small amount of time, he gave a quick, lack-luster response.
“Yes.”
“What happens if the demons come back? If my thoughts turn sinful again?” she whimpered at the thought.
“Well, I have a way I can make sure they don’t.” he smirked to himself, “Stand up, will you?”
She did as she was told; his perfect little obedient pet. Before she could question anything, she was grabbed by the wrists and slammed up above her head, her back against the wall next to the fire place, Steve reaching over and grabbing the bow heated fire poker.
It clicked for her as her eyes widened.
“W-Wait!” she squeaked, looking at the red-hot end of the fire poker, his fingers wrapped around it tightly.
When the scalding metal touched the skin of her breast, she let out a pained cry, a sickening sizzle ringing through her ears as she sobbed. The burning touch seemed to last for ages, before it was finally brought away, but the pain never ceased.
The shape made her stomach turn, the man pulling the girl in an embrace as she sobbed, shushing her.
There, over her right breast, was the mark of the lord. A blistering cross, that would be an eternal reminder of their shared moment together.
“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Steve spoke, right before her world went black from shock.
Hear me out, au where Steve becomes a priest to idk get out from under his dad's thumb and Billy is the one who got dragged to church at some point and just can't get the pretty boy out of his head, so he keeps coming to the sermons and Steve, a very open and wholesome priest, is just so fucking smitten and tempted by the golden god who keeps walking in in tight jeans with his tiddies out and he finds a whole new religion between Billy's thighs
