#boy oh boy i hope wolfwood reaches his hand back out with his other hand

[ajihaew]

preview of my @vashwoodzine piece ^_^ in the language of flowers, red geraniums symbolize...

[peachy-posy]

Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: After putting yourself in a dangerous situation, you and Vash have one of your first major arguments.

A/N: Third Trigun fic, woohoo! This was my first time writing something with the 98 versions of characters specifically in mind, so I hope everything feels in character! I tried my best hehe Last chapter will have smut (my first time writing any hhhh), minors DNI!!! Cross-posted to my AO3 <3

Chapter Tags: Established relationship, canon-typical violence, minor violence/injuries, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.1k

Traveling with only men is decidedly… not very fun, in your opinion. At least not the ones you're with. You lean your head in your hands, listening vaguely as Vash and Wolfwood argue between themselves in their good-natured, but annoying way. You tuned them out about half an hour ago when the conversation started heading in that argumentative direction. 

You miss Milly and Meryl. When the boys start debating and arguing, the three of you have your own conversation, laughing and joking with each other. The insurance girls had been sent to a neighboring town several days ago, promising to meet back up with you three in a week or so. That day could not come sooner. 

Your eyes, which have been glazed over for some time now, focus as Wolfwood huffs, leaning back in his chair. Vash does the same, but you don’t feel any real malice between them as usual. Seems like they are finally done. 

You glance over at the blonde, feeling his turquoise eyes on you.

“Everything okay, Mayfly?” He questions with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand. 

You smile, even as Wolfwood groans something to the effect of ‘Oh, here we go.’

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about Meryl and Milly,” you answer, prompting a bright smile from Vash at the mention of the two girls. 

“Aw, what, we aren’t fun enough for ya, sweetheart?” Wolfwood asks, his tone teasing. 

You glance at him tiredly. “Unfortunately not. Sorry.” 

He feigns hurt, over-exaggerating his reaction. “You wound me!” Vash chuckles to your side, and you share an amused smile with him. This ramps up the theatrics from the preacher, and he looks at Vash. “How can you lie down and take this? You’re included in that statement, you know.” 

Vash shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Your heart flutters at the action. 

“Oh, please. Get a room,” Wolfwood remarks. You can’t help but snort, even as Vash puffs up. 

As he begins to reply, gunshots echo from somewhere outside: perhaps near the town square. You jump, slightly surprised, and Vash’s hold on your hand tightens as he hears shouting from outside. 

You know what comes next. 

Wolfwood grabs his Punisher, stretching casually as he stands. Vash stands as well, walking over to you briskly, kneeling at your side. He takes you by your shoulders, locking eyes with you, and calls your name.

“You’ll be okay on your own for a bit, right? Don’t come out unless one of us comes for you.” 

“I know the drill, Vash. Be careful,” you reassure, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He smiles against your lips, able to get lost in the moment, but only for... well, a moment. More gunshots and screams ring out, and he stands up with renewed urgency, meeting Wolfwood at the entrance with long strides. 

Vash glances at you one last time before exiting. You blink and the two are gone, leaving you behind in the old tavern. The few patrons that were there as well had gone to investigate the commotion, leaving you alone. 

You sigh, unwanted frustration with your situation bubbling up in your chest. Unfortunately, it’s like this all the time. After all, you aren’t some incredible, talented gunslinger. You’re just a healer in love with one. 

You slowly stand up, leaving the table you three had been occupying, scrutinizing the room for a good place to hide. After a few minutes, you find yourself a nice little spot behind the bar. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’ll do. 

You lower yourself to the floor, preparing yourself for the waiting game. You wonder how long it’ll take for them to come back today. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour? 

You hear more gunfire and shouting in the distance, and you try your best to ignore it for now, despite the uneasiness settling in your chest. There’s nothing you can do for anyone until the danger is over. You know that this general course of action is what is safest for you. You hide yourself away, waiting for the ‘all clear,’ then tend to any and all wounded people who happen to get caught up in whatever happens, a reassuring smile plastered on your face all the while. This is how you do your part in the small group you’ve found yourself in. 

It also allows Vash to not be worried about your safety while actively dodging bullets. 

You’d worked in a small clinic before meeting the Humanoid Typhoon what feels like ages ago. Your role as a doctor’s assistant made you happy at the time; it made you feel fulfilled and helpful. And it still does! 

That said, you sometimes find yourself wishing that you could protect others the way Vash and Wolfwood can. Not that you want to throw yourself into the fray of battle, but you hate feeling so… useless at times like this when the fighting first breaks out. Weak. Like something that needs to be tucked away and protected. 

Vash adores that you are a healer. He’ll sometimes sit with you on quiet nights, his fingers rubbing affectionate circles into your hands while he holds them, saying that your hands were made for saving people. You tell him that his hands were too, but he denies it every single time. He says his hands were made for violence. For destruction. 

You couldn’t disagree more. 

Not when you see all of the good he does, protecting those around him with the very hands he swears will bring destruction to everything they touch. 

You are startled out of your thoughts by the sound of a bullet ricocheting particularly close by. You hold your breath, trying to gauge how far away the person who fired it is. You can hear voices in the distance that sound closer than wherever the main incident is. You bite your lip, considering if you are hidden well enough. Slowly, you begin to notice the sounds of… crying? 

You know Vash doesn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but what exactly would looking through a window do? Besides, the crying sounds too much like a child for your comfort. 

You rise slowly from behind the bar, finding your resolve to investigate. Making your way over to a nearby window on light feet, you carefully peek outside. At first, there is nothing that you can see. Suddenly, though, a small child running down the street comes into view. He’s crying, dust coating his hands and knees. He’s bleeding from a few small cuts that you can see from your current view of him, but otherwise seems physically unharmed. 

You gasp as the boy trips, tumbling hard into the dusty ground. He sucks in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. In the blink of an eye, four men concealing their faces with bandanas are upon the boy, one of them grabbing him roughly. 

The child shrieks, thrashing in the man’s hold. To your horror, another one of the men points a gun at him. He can’t be more than five years old. The sight of it makes you nauseated. 

“You’re gonna regret running, you damn brat,” one of the men rasps angrily at the sobbing child. 

“Bring him back to where the other townspeople are. Make sure you don’t lose any this time,” one of the other men orders. 

“G-got it,” one of them replies nervously. 

“If it happens again, it’s your head.” 

It seems like this gang took some hostages when they got here, and this boy escaped. You can’t let them take him back. They don’t seem to have any issue shooting him, as you heard that gunshot earlier as they chased him. Your hands are trembling and clammy, but you know you have to do something. 

But with what? You don’t have a weapon. You desperately look around the tavern, and your eyes land on a knife and empty bottles. Acting quickly, you grab one of each, a messy and dangerous plan forming as you go. 

All you have working for you is the element of surprise. You can’t fight, but you know where to hit someone to make it count due to your medical training. You just hope you’re fast enough. 

You look outside once more, and you notice that two of the men are gone. The other two that remain are talking to one another for the time being, distracted. One holds the child in a punishing grip, surely causing bruises to form on his small wrist. He's wailing in earnest, despite the captors' barking at him to quit. 

It’s now or never. You open the door as quietly as you can manage, gripping the bottle. You’ll have to hit one of the men as hard as you can in the head with the bottle, then use the knife you’d pocketed to strike the other. Your plan is to slash the ligaments behind the knee, immobilizing the person. The bottle isn’t very ideal, but you’re worried your lack of skill with a knife will cause you to accidentally lose the weapon in a body if you try to use it for both men. 

Unfortunately, you know your plan has little chance of success. Once you attack one, the other knows you’re there. Your best bet is to incapacitate the one holding the child first and to assess in the moment if you can deal with the other. There is a large chance you’ll just have to grab the kid and run as fast as you can, hoping you find Vash or Wolfwood if you make it to the town square. You look down at the threshold of the tavern, trying to will your legs to move forward. Your body is frozen, unable to walk outside. 

Suddenly, one of the men turns on his heels, striding back down the street where they originally came from. That gets you moving. 

You hide yourself behind the door hastily, praying you haven’t been spotted. Several terrifying moments pass where you wait for them to descend upon you. You can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your head, throbbing in anticipation of the worst. 

The attack never comes. They haven’t seen you.

You can’t believe your stroke of luck. You may actually be able to pull off incapacitating a single person, even with your limited capabilities in combat. 

You carefully set the bottle on the ground, reaching for the knife you grabbed. You peek around the door, eyes finding the man and boy immediately. The man is yanking the child, trying to get him to cooperate. His back is towards the tavern. 

You grip the kitchen knife firmly, trying to control your shaking hands as you emerge from behind the door. You approach as swiftly and quietly as you can, soon finding yourself within striking distance of your target. 

Just slash the back of his knee. He shouldn’t be able to chase you if you tear a ligament. 

Steeling yourself, you aim for the back of the man’s knee, slashing with as much force as you can muster. 

You know you succeeded when he howls in pain, immediately letting go of the child and grabbing his knee, falling to the sandy, dusty street. He is bleeding, gripping his knee tightly, and he turns to look at you with a shocked glare, his eyes filled with malice. 

You drop the knife in shock, your bloody hands making you nauseous. 

Time to go! 

The child is pale, shaking like a leaf as you scoop him into your arms. The man shouts from the ground, and you see him start fumbling around, looking for something. 

“Get back here! You bitch!” 

You turn on your heels, sprinting as fast as your legs can go. You hear a deafening gunshot, flinching as a bullet hits the dirt nearby. You realize that he had been trying to get his gun, and unfortunately for you, he found it.

He shoots again, but you have already begun weaving as you run, hoping to throw his aim off. The child is clutching onto you fiercely, burying his head into your shoulder. More bullets hit the ground around you, and your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. As you turn the nearest street corner, you find yourself shocked and relieved your plan is working. You just might actually be able to save this child. 

Your thoughts come to an abrupt, violent halt when you notice a dark blur in your periphery. A man slams his gun into your head with a snarl, and you are thrown towards the ground. On your way down, you attempt to shield the boy as best you can, wrapping your arms around him tightly and trying to absorb the shock of slamming into the ground. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you collide into the street with a groan of pain. Your head is swimming, but you unwrap your arms, trying to sit up as quickly as possible and get the boy to his feet. He seems relatively unharmed, but terribly shaken up. 

“Run! Now!” You scream, and he thankfully listens. 

He darts off, right as the man reaches you. You see him start to move after the boy, but you lunge for and grab one of his legs, causing him to stumble with curses spilling from his lips. He whips his head down to look at you, and you do your best to not recoil from his gaze. 

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scowls, kicking you off him. You gasp, hitting the ground once more with a painful thud. Your ears ring, and your vision is blurring. 

“Just who do you think you are?” He kneels in front of you, gripping your shirt’s collar and yanking you up. You whimper in pain, your head throbbing as he jostles you. 

“I hope it was worth it. You can take his place.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie, managing to catch his eyes. Truth be told, you're terrified. But you’d never tell this scumbag that. 

He lets out a low, threatening laugh. Chills race down your spine. “Oh, you aren’t very smart, are you?” He laughs again, gripping your collar tightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. I’m still deciding. How about I rough you up a little till then?” 

You feel the burn of tears in your eyes, and blink quickly to dispel them before they can form. You refuse to cry in front of him. 

You desperately hope the boy is safe. You’re so close to the town square. Vash and Wolfwood should be right near here. 

Through your blurring vision and pounding head, you see the man rear his hand back. You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself. 

Instead of feeling the collision of his hand, you hear a sharp intake of breath. You crack open your eyes hesitantly, vision blurring. 

Your breath is pulled from your lungs, tears of relief flowing immediately. Because even with blurring vision, you are able to recognize the long, red coat blowing in the wind. Standing behind the man who tackled you is Vash. He’s holding the man by the wrist, and he looks furious . 

“Vash,” you breathe out, voice trembling. 

The man drops you from his grip, and you fall into the ground, immediately using your heels to scoot away from him. After blinking several times to focus, you take a good look at Vash. You’ve never seen him so angry before. The hand he’s using to grip the wrist of your assailant is trembling with restraint.. 

“I-I know you! You’re Vash the Stampede!” The man realizes with wide eyes, his face pale. 

Vash says nothing, his eyes narrowing. The man continues his nervous rambling. 

“L-look, I didn’t… we didn’t know you were here. If you want this town, it’s all yours. We’ll leave.” 

You hold your breath, watching to see what Vash does next. Your heart aches for him, knowing that he is bothered by the rumors that precede him. That said, that infamous reputation is pretty convenient right now. 

Vash uses his gun to knock out the man without a word. He immediately goes limp, crumpling to the ground as Vash releases his wrist. You release the breath you’d been holding, noting the pain in your head and body, but mostly feel great relief. Vash’s gaze remains trained on the unconscious form before him, his expression complicated. Several beats of silence pass, and you feel yourself becoming slightly anxious. Why hasn’t he said anything this entire time?

“Vash?” You call hesitantly, voice quiet. 

Your voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes flicker up to yours, relief washing over his features as he races forward, throwing himself on his knees in front of you. 

“Oh Mayfly, god, look what they did to you,” the words spill from his mouth as he holds you in a bone crushing hug to his chest. 

You let yourself be cradled in his arms, disappointed slightly when he pulls back after a moment. He looks pained. 

“Your head,” he murmurs, hand gently reaching for your temple. You hiss when his fingers graze the throbbing, painful area. He retracts his hand, the blood on his gloved fingertips making you realize you’re bleeding. 

“I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, holding you close again. 

You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to ignore the dizziness it causes. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my-” 

The words die on your tongue as you hear a familiar voice chattering animatedly around the corner. Both you and Vash turn to face the noise, seeing Wolfwood strolling around the corner of the building nearby, holding a child in his arms. You feel the tension drain from your body fully at the sight of the familiar little boy unharmed. 

You hastily stumble to your feet, trying to get over to him, doing your best to ignore the dizziness that overtakes you from the sudden movement. Vash scrambles after you, holding onto you as you sway. 

“Easy, easy! I think you have a concussion,” Vash implores, but you press forward stubbornly. 

The child sees you, squirming from Wolfwood’s grasp to reach you. With dried tears on his face, he looks up at you with big, worried eyes. You feel Vash’s hand at the small of your back, gently steadying you. 

“Well, looks like we found her! Good job, bud!” Wolfwood praises, ruffling the kid’s hair. 

A bright smile forms on his little face. He reaches out and snatches your hand. 

“Come help me find my mommy!”

[mediocreanomaly]

Amen. Priest!Wolfwood x Reader (NSFW)

**GN!Reader** Authors Note: I have an issue. Yes Priest!Wolfwood sparks joy, so please enjoy 4,539 of depravity as my welcome back, small note at the end!

**Content Warning: I grew up religious so I'm using real scripture here, if you're religious or that makes you uncomfy this might be a skip for you, if you're depraved like me read on**

Being raised Catholic was a one-way street to spoon fulls of guilt being shoved down your throat. Most everyone in the church was more or less aware of that fact, whether they acknowledged it or not.

However, there’s a warning they don't bother to put on the good book. A warning about the more...complicated relationship you develop with religion once the guilt that's swelled up in your chest has nowhere else to go.

"Then God said, 'Take your son to the land of Moriah and kill your son there as a sacrifice for me. This must be Isaac, your only son, the one you love. Use him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains there. I will tell you which mountain.” Church sometimes God ask things from us, things that seem...unimaginable, unbearable, but we are not lead blindly. No, quite the opposite, God-' " Father Wolfwood emphases by pointing to the rafters of the church as if the big man himself was sitting there, watching. "He has a plan, a plan so great and magnificent that we cannot begin to comprehend. With that understanding Abraham takes his son, because he trust, church, he trust God enough to follow-"

The sermon is drowned out. To anyone around you you'd look devout. Pious even with how well you focus on Father Wolfwood, but it's not the bible that makes you show up every Sunday. It's the dark black tousled hair that trails into stubble lining his cheek. It's those big brown eyes wide and confident as he preaches to the congregation. It's those hands, large and calloused, that make you wonder what life he must have lived before this as he moves them around with his speech. It's his skin, perfectly tan and forehead beading with sweat from the insufferable heat of the church, no doubt that cassock isn't helping. It's his voice, deep and raspy with that perfect cadence that makes you wonder what it'd be like if he said your name while bending you over-

"Y/n?" The altar boy who you didn't even realize had come to your pew ask. He's holding out communion in a way that tells you he's been there for a second.

"Oh! uh-" you reach out for the wine when a hand around your wrist stops you, you blink a few times and look up to see the man you were just ogling at meeting your gaze with dark eyes.

"Why don't you pass that out to the other pews, y/n is joining me for a special communion after church, they had something they wanted to pray on with me" Father Wolfwood says easily.

"I do?" the words fall from your mouth dumbly which causes Wolfwood to raise an eyebrow at you as if you're stupid. You let yourself swallow and bow your head as if scolded, you wonder what part of being a priest blessed him with so much sass.

"ah- right! yes I had forgotten, thank you Father Wolfwood" you correct. You had not, in fact, discussed anything of the sorts with the Father, but there was clearly something you were missing here.

He gives you a curt nod before softening his eyes and turning back to the young boy.

"Go on" he insist. He does, continuing to the next pew with all the confirmation he needed and Wolfwood finally let’s go of your wrist. The warmth of his hand that lingers isn't lost on you as you wearily glance up at him.

"Special communion?" You try hoping to gather a bit more information on the situation you'll be faced with after Mass.

"mhmm, God has called me to you. Something weighs on your mind, perhaps a repentance is in order?" his face gives away nothing, although you swear his eyes darken as he watches you with a pleasant smile that stays locked on his face.

Alarm bells ring in your head. Did...did he know? You had done your best to hide your less than innocent gaze as worship. Thinking back on it perhaps you were less conspicuous about it than you thought, that or God was the worst wing man ever.

"Father Wolfwood I-"

He holds up his hand to pause the word vomit that was about to stutter out and shakes his head.

"Later. Best to confess without prying eyes, no?"

He lets you simmer on that as he makes his way back to the front of the church. When he leads the church in prayer you do take it upon yourself to pray for once. You pray you'll sink into the floor or be struck dead before the end of the sermon.

By the time the church doors are opened, and people file out you're sure your heart will burst anyways. You stay seated in the front pew, not moving an inch because if you stand it'll be to bolt out the door and... well technically nothing was keeping you from it. It's not like the god damn (sorry God) preacher would shoot you if you attempted to run. He had simply suggested you confess. Easy. He probably hears peoples fucked up sexual fantasies all the time sitting in that booth. You knew the sheriff’s wife was sleeping with the banker and you knew the sheriff was sleeping with the widow down the street so it's not like the stuff that’s pulled from the great Catholics of No Mans Land weren't anything he hadn't heard before.

That's the thought you try and let comfort you as Father Wolfwood finishes up thanking people for coming to church and shaking hands.

The church doors shut with a thud that makes you jump in your seat; you press your hands together firmly and feel your fingernails dig into the skin there. This was fine.

"You know" Father Wolfwood folds his hands politely behind his back and takes agonizingly slow steps down the aisle "People with guilty conscious are more likely to be startled by loud noises."

You keep your head bowed slightly in what must look like a mock prayer, but you aren’t praying any more, you're just doing everything possible to not throw up on the churches nice red carpet, carpet that is interrupted when two black dress shows come into view.

"y/n?"

That voice. It makes you press you lips in a firm line scared of what filth might come out of it if you speak. Instead, to show you're listening, you slowly raise your head to meet Wolfwoods eyes, the likes of which seem clouded in some strong emotion. Were priest always this intense? Well, the easy answer was yes but this was a different type of intensity, not kind that filled revering words but one that more closely resembled a predator zoning in on its prey.

"Y/n" he says it again, albeit softer this time as if coaxing forward a scared animal. "You have something on your mind, don't you? Something that plagues you?"

You feel your fingers instinctively move to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. If the heat from the church before was unbearable before then this is downright swelting.

"Don't you usually do this kind of thing in the booth?" a poor attempt of a smile graces your lips in a desperate attempt to lighten whatever mood was staring to suffocate the air.

"Usually yes. This is a special case I believe though..." he leans down and your heart slams against your chest, his breath fans against your cheek. You can smell lingering cologne and... was that smoke? Surely not, if your local priest smoked it'd be the talk of the town, although now that you think about it those plush lips would look perfect balancing a cigarette between them, and they'd look even better if he used those teeth to-

"I almost forgot! You haven't received communion" He straightens out in an instant and claps his hands together nearly scaring you out of your skin while your face heats up from pure embarrassment.

You watch as he crosses from the pew to the table behind the pulpit and grabs a small cup of wine and bread. Just as quickly he's back in front of you with the objects. You reach out to accept them when he pulls his hands back.

"ah ah ah, I said this was a special communion didn't I? I'll deliver it unto you, you just sit and do as your told."

Oh. Yeah, that definitely didn't do anything to you. Nothing like a gruff handsome man in priest wear telling you to obey in the house of God. This was for sure not bubbling up any worrying realizations about yourself. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He steps back putting a little bit of room between the two of you before his eyes flicker from you to the carpet in front of him.

"Kneel."

You go instantly and willingly, a bit too willingly. Your mind flashes with Father Wolfwoods sermons about the disciples who kissed Jesus’ feet. You wonder if this was an elaborate way to get you to read the bible more because you're beginning to understand what was going through their minds now as you sit on your knees in front of the priest.

You aren’t sure if Wolfwood expected you to be so eager. He pauses for a moment before you swear a hint of a smirk plays at his lips. He raises the glass and the bit of bread slightly.

"Listen to me closely, we wouldn't want to spill and stain the carpet now, would we?" he ask.

You shake your head no. He makes a satisfied hum and continues.

"Tilt your head back.”

You do as your told, tilting your head back until your eye level is forced to be centered on the man in front of you.

"Open your mouth.”

Your mouth begins to salivate despite the fact there’s nothing in it yet. Perhaps it's due to the fact that what he's about to put in it isn't want you’d like to have resting on your tongue.

"Good. Why don't you stick your tongue out a little bit? I don't want you to dribble."

Fuck him. Fuck him so bad. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing but if had any hint about this sadistic game he was playing with you he gave no indication, he remained at stoic as ever as if you weren't having the most unholy thoughts imagine about your fucking priest.

There’s no going back though. You follow his instructions and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. You swear something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it arrives.

He raises the glass and bread more as if offering it to God.

"Close your eyes.”

You do. You let the light of stained-glass windows be blotted out by your own blind obedience.

“Corpus Domini Nostri Iesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam....Amen."

You feel him press the small bit of bread onto your tongue, you close and eat. You don't need to be told before your opening your mouth again.

The wine follows right after, poured into your mouth and you swallow it down focusing on not letting any hit the ground with the speed at which the contents are emptied down your throat.

What realistically could not have been more than a few seconds feels as though it's lasted a lifetime. You take a deep breath once the bitter wine has settled in your stomach and before you can even think about getting up and excusing yourself from the church Wolfwood puts a hand on your shoulder, signaling for you to stay in place.

"Good. Why don't we get that confession out of the way then?"

Right. The reason he had probably pulled you aside for all of this in the first place. Had he seen through you? Seen how hungry your gaze had become? Probably. Looking back on it sitting in the front row was probably not the best idea when the entire reason for your Sunday visits was for potential fantasy fuel. There didn't seem like any reason to lie though, it's not like a priest could tell anyone about these things and outside of church Father Wolfwood was a bit of an anomaly to the town.

He didn't have any friends that you knew of, didn't gossip, or hang out at the bar, the man lived in this church which was making you feel a bit more guilty about your infatuation now that you thought of it but hey, if you weren't guilty about something then were you even a catholic?

"Forgive me Father I have sinned..."

With a grimace you realize why the damn confessions booths were so popular. Admitting this to God or a wooden wall was a little too easy. Admitting this to Wolfwood was like someone slowly peeling off your skin.

"I see, well, tell me child what is your confession?"

a swallow, then a leap.

"I have been...ah having inappropriate thoughts about someone. Someone who I go out of my way to see to add to these...fantasy's I have."

He listens closely and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

"I see...lust then?"

You nod in response, and he makes an affirming noise.

"And what do you imagine happening in these...fantasies of yours?"

The silence in the empty church is so loud it's deafening. Your hands scrunch and unscrunch the fabric of your pants.

"I...I imagine him pushing be down against these very pews Father. That one day as I'm standing up to leave mass, he'll shove me right back down and take me against the wood."

It's said strained but even you must admit maybe there’s something to this confession shit because you feel a bit lighter with it off your shoulders. Father Wolfwood looks less light. In fact, he looks you've just damned him to hell.

"Is that all?" he asks but it comes out breathier than he means it to.

The tone sends something to your core, oh you see it now. Lamb and shepherd your ass, you were still most certainly the lamb but the Father was no shepherd, he was the Wolf. Maybe God himself had put that divine foreshadowing into his name.

You shift on your knees and press yourself flatter trying to rub your thighs together. Wolfwoods eyes flicker down to the action then back up to your face, he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"No Father. Sometimes I imagine him taking me on the stand in front of the whole congregation. Still preaching while he finishes in me, holy words even in his most sinful act. But...do you know what I really want Father?"

Wolfwood swallows, his fingers trace along your face, and you fight every instinct to lean into it. He looks like this is paining him, He's all gritted teeth and square shoulders as he speaks.

"What do you want?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"I imagine he'd keep me here after church, that he'd have me kneel before him still while wearing his holy clothes, that collar, the rosary...and I wish he'd undo his belt to-"

"Enough."

Your mouth snaps shut scared you've pushed to far. You can feel heat bloom across your face in embarrassment now that your words are catching up to you, this was meant to be a confession not a shit porno, maybe you DID need God...

"You drive me insane you know that? Every day you come in here- the house of god mind you and stare at me like..." He clicks his tongue and motions to you.

"Well like that."

You aren't sure what to make of his tone, it's scolding and firm but hinges on needy at the end. You're starting to worry you broke the poor man before he makes an irritated noise.

"Fine. You want to repent so bad?" Wolfwoods hands go to his belt and with a soft clink of the metal it comes fastened. Your eyes flicker to look towards the door to make sure that no one was about to walk in on the scene that'd put Judas’ sin to shame when you're snapped out of your thoughts.

"Pay attention sweetheart, you were doing so good before, what happened?" The mask of a holy man cracks and gives way to something cockier, more taunting, more...Wolfwood.

"Unless you need scripture to keep your focus?" he works to undo the button and the zip of his dress pants as he tilts his head.

"Then here's something for you, 'the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When Eve saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom..' "

He frees himself from the confines of his pants. You feel your mouth water and although your knees are starting to hurt from kneeling for so long you have a feeling you're about to get your real communion.

" '...and she opened her mouth, and took.' "

In beat with his preaching you let your mouth fall open. In all honesty, you get it now. You get how appealing that lush fruit must have been to Eve, you get why even after being promised paradise, she gave in to temptation. The weight that settles on your tongue as Wolfwood presses into your mouth makes your eyes roll back and an involuntary moan escape your throat. Wolfwoods breath stutters.

"God..." He groans and if your mouth wasn't currently full you might have made a witty comment about using the lords name in vain but a quick hand lacing through your hair from Wolfwood serves well enough to sever whatever thought had flitted through your mind.

You flatten your tongue and take more, allowing as much as you can to the back of your throat but when tears prick your eyes and you gag slightly on the sensation he pulls you off with a wet pop. You whine slightly at loss before Wolfwoods hand grabs your chin while he uses his thumb to wipe up the drool leaking from your lips that you hadn't realized was there.

"Patience, don’t you listen to a word I say up there?” he muses, you sheepishly look up at him through your eyelashes and it’s answer enough. He pulls you back in front of his cock, "Be good then, swallow every drop and I might forgive you"

You don't have much time to argue has his hand guides you back. You're more prepared this time, the way you sit on your knees...you’re a picture perfect saint and who's here to judge you for your sin anyways? Wolfwood? Sounded like a set up to a joke.

"Fuck, yeah baby just like that. So good-" His words break off with a grunt and his hips stutter forward, he pulls your head forward and your reach up to steady yourself with his thighs. He rocks his hips to your mouth as he face fucks you in the middle of the church. When his breathing speeds up and he mutters out a sting of gentle curses you know he’s close. You close your eyes and let him use you as he spills down your throat. You're desperate to show him you can listen, you swallow down as much as you can trying to not let a single drop of cum hit the floor.

When the rough handful of hair is released, you pull back to try and catch your breath, a worthless endeavor it would seem considering you're just as quickly being lifted up by your arm. You feel yourself being tugged up the steps towards the pulpit and make peace with the fact you're officially the worst Catholic ever...well besides the priest who's currently the instigator of this depravity.

"Not done yet sweetheart, the grace of god doesn't come with a blow job surprisingly" Wolfwood huffs amused as he presses down on your shoulder to force you to bend of the wood stand.

"Are you even a priest?" wrong question you guess because Wolfwood makes an irritated noise.

"Aren't you supposed to be repenting?" His hands grope at your thighs spreading them apart much more slowly than you'd like, as if he's savoring it...reverence you think.

"Father-"

He chuckles lowly at that.

"Father" he imitates "you let that name fall from your lips like it doesn't turn you on just to say it"

His fingers ghost over your thighs, then around the area you want him most before sliding up under your shirt to explore flesh. It's so hot in the church and when you peer out across the wooden pews you see the stain glass window casting rainbow light that sprawls out across the floor all the way up to your body.

"Focus on me" Wolfwood corrects your wandering mind by nipping along your neck and your body instinctively shudders against him. You press your hips back to feel his growing hardness pressed against your ass. His hands slide your shirt up over your head and he begins to focus on trailing kisses along your back.

"Thank you, lord," His lips move against your shoulder blade.

"For delivering this sinner unto me, so that I may show them rapture."

His fingers hook along the hem of your pants and tug them down your legs until they rest right at your knees.

"Despite that, I must confess, I have sinned."

His fingers trace along your entrance before slowly sinking in. You groan and press your head to the wood in front of you, fingers scratching against the surface.

"I have lusted for someone of my own congregation. I have imagined them kneeling for me and I worst of all I have imagined me taking them, devouring them until there is nothing left to fill them but me"

Another finger lazily joins the first and he begins a slow rhythm of pumping them in and out. You attempt to wiggle your hips back to chase the feeling, but his other hand keeps your waist flush against the stand.

"But I am only a man so with my mortal body I will show them euphoria"

You feel his fingers pull out and whine at the loss only to feel the blunt head of his own cock begin to line up with you.

"Amen"

Wolfwood doesn't give you much more warning before roughly pressing in. You moan as he sets a backbreaking pace, thankful that he at least prepped you before. He's leaned over your body; his hair tickles the back of your neck slightly as he pants in your ear. You imagine your own noises can't be much better as his left hand, the one he's apparently wrapped in a rosary, comes up to catch your chin, two fingers press into your mouth as he supports your head. His other hand stays at your hip, bringing your body back against his with every thrust.

It's so hot in the church, sweat beads along your body and you can feel your hair beginning to stick to your forehead. Your mind feels foggy and you lap absent mindedly at the fingers invading your mouth. Wolfwood groans and pushes you down further against the stand and it'd be uncomfortable if you could focus on anything other than the priest fucking your brains out. He produces an ungodly amount of precum, you can feel it making a mess between your thighs right as drool begins to leak from the corners of your mouth and bead down to the wood below.

Wolfwoods hand shifts from your hip to where a blooming warmth has begun. You nearly cry out with relief babbling nonsense around his fingers, hell maybe even a few prayers. His own mouth is becoming less of that of a reverend and more of that of a ravenous man, mouthing and biting at what he can reach. The fingers press deeper into your mouth and your feel the smooth beads of the rosary are you toy with them with your tongue. You're close, you tremble beneath Wolfwood and he catches on because both his hands pull away to once again fit along your hips. You nearly sob from the new lack of stimulation as he rocks into you.

"Beg for it" Wolfwood says so firm you'd have sworn he was once again leading congregation. Your mind is half way to mush right now so it doesn't take much convincing to do what he wants.

"Please please please let me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I repent" you babble out hoping you’ve said the magic words.

His hand comes down firmly on your ass as he thrust into you then finally finally reaches to touch between your thighs.

It sends you over the edge instantly, your legs trembling as you whine and moan, Wolfwoods own obscene noises match your own as he finishes inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, you become aware of the fact your priest is pressed up against your back, trying to catch his breath from fucking the ever loving daylights out of you. You whine slightly and Wolfwood responds by nuzzling his face against your neck.

"Are you okay?"

You do actually laugh at that one, letting your forehead rest against the podium.

"The priest I've been fantasizing about fucking me for a year now just has. This has been the best lay of my life and you want to ask if I'm okay?"

"You're awfully vulgar aren't you?"

You snap your head up to make several points about irony of the statement but when you turn you see a shit eating grin on his face. Your playfully hit his chest and groan.

"You've got to be the worst priest ever"

"Can't say I'd deny that claim" He leans forward and kisses you, you go into it easily but the taste of his lips remind you of something, when you pull away you raise an eyebrow

"Do you smoke?"

He shrugs and keeps his hands on your waist.

"I prefer to keep certain things in my life separated from the church"

"and me?"

"Consider yourself a special case." He smirks and takes hold of your chin between his fingers "Although I do hope this was enough to keep you coming to my sermons?" he ask

You swallow at the dark look in his eye and place your hands on his chest.

"and miss the holy word? Perish the thought"

He chuckles lowly at that as your hands begin to play with the collar of the cassock he wears.

"Although Father, I fear I may not have properly confessed."

He raises an eyebrow and eyes you "No?"

You shake your head "See I only...repented for two out of three fantasy’s I had also mentioned being taken against the pews"

Wolfwoods hands tighten around his hips and his smile widens.

"Well...let's fix that, shall we?"

Author's note: ahhhh I'm back! I've been storin this little beauty away for awhile now. This is my welcome back post because I feel like I lost the way I wanted to organize and write for a little while and this was the first piece that got me back in the flow of things. I missed you guys! We're back baby! (I'll add my spacers in later I'm missin the files rn and I don't feel like searching for them)