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alfredosauce50 · 2 years ago

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One more night

[Boxer! Denmark x reader] 11

Wordcount: 4, 365 Rating: M for strong language and mature themes

The reader is referred to as she/her

One more night - 11

Off to the races

Mathias rolled his fists against a speed bag, getting it to bounce back and forth rhythmically. A sheen of sweat had glazed over his skin from head to toe, but he never faltered. He was finally back in the zone.

He also lost everything he gained, revealing his past triumphs. Bulging shoulders, a six-pack, and strong legs for a muscular body. He swung into the speed bag one last time, making it rock to and fro.

And he was just getting started.

“You’re in a good mood today,” You commented from the kitchen, sipping a warm cup of coffee. Everyone slept in on Sundays, Allen included, but he got up at nine to do nothing but scribble in his sketchbook.

“Am I?” He lifted his eyes to you, only to look down at his page again. “What gave it away?”

“You’re drawing.”

“I can’t channel my inner negativity sometimes?”

“I think we both know how you actually do that.”

“Okay, fine. You got me.” He mumbled, moving his pencil around for a few finishing touches. Once he was satisfied, he held up his drawing with a proud, toothy grin. “Look. It’s a fortress.”

“Wow,” You mouthed. A smiling stick figure with black shades stood on top of a castle, raining machine gunfire and grenades on the masses below. “And who’s that guarding the fortress?”

“Me.”

“What about all the people down here?”

“I think you know.” He put his sketchbook down.

Now that Mathias moved back home, Allen was the happiest he’d ever been. Even though they were on better terms, this was his home, and he had a very particular idea of what that looked like.

“You guys realize Hammy has been roaming outside his cage for a while.” Amy sauntered in with a squint.

Allen flew off the couch and scrambled into the hallway. With his spot vacant, she plopped down next to you and kicked her feet onto the coffee table. When he came back with his pet, he scowled.

“Hey, you stole my spot!”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I was literally just there!” He stuck out a hand.

“Well, you weren’t for a second.” She hummed.

The three of you, just like old times.

“To think I used to complain about people bringing their babies to the theater,” Amy muttered, collecting her popcorn from the snack bar. She spun around to reveal Bob strapped to her torso. “Now I’m people.”

“And you’re seeing Captain America of all movies.”

“I must be crazy.”

“I mean,” You made a face. Amy was the one who suggested this, but now that she was here, she had to be persuaded. “It was either here or the gym. It’s not your fault Malena couldn’t take him tonight.”

“That’s not even the problem,” She sighed.

“Then what is?” You asked, confused.

“I don’t wanna leave Bob with anybody right now.” Amy hugged him close, face falling slightly.

She still had a hard time being away from her baby after that incident. She didn’t have a choice while working, but now that she was off-duty, keeping him around was always at the back of her mind.

“Then I guess we’ll have to get him used to these kinds of places.” You pulled her along, watching her expression closely. She let you, albeit reluctantly. “There’s a first time for everything, you know?”

“I guess,” She fixed his earmuffs. “Sorry, Bob.”

“When was the last time you went to see a movie anyway?” You asked, walking inside with her.

“Beats me.”

Two hours later, you both emerged from the theater.

“That was fucking amazing,” She let out, smiling from ear to ear. “Bob fell asleep halfway through!”

You and Amy swung by Whole Foods after.

“Do you think he’s gonna win?” She asked, watching you add several bananas to the shopping cart.

The question had been looming over your minds ever since Mathias brought it up. Heavyweight boxers from all over the continent fought under one arena for the belt.

“It’s hard to say,” You shook your head, falling deep in thought.

“Yeah.”

“I’m just relieved he didn’t give up.”

“Me too.” She furrowed her brows.

“Whatever happens, I’m really happy that he’s kinda himself again,” You added, smiling briefly. Because even after everything that happened, he didn’t quit. And that couldn’t be more fitting for who he was.

“Well, I’m glad he’s back.” Amy hummed, though her expression came off as more bittersweet than anything. Your face fell slightly when you picked up on it. “I wouldn’t be telling you this otherwise.”

“Telling me what?”

“That Mat told me,” She inhaled a deep breath before revealing what had been on her mind forever. “He wanted you to move out with him. And I just want you to know that I’m a hundred percent for it.”

“What?” Your heart sank. “He told you?”

“Ages ago, actually. I just never had the chance to bring it up. Didn’t wanna cause any more drama,” Amelia explained, pushing the cart along as she spoke. “What, with everything that went down?”

You turned away, eyes darting restlessly and mind racing with a million thoughts. This whole time?

“Allen would’ve gone nuts.” She widened her eyes.

It was no secret that he loved you dearly, going so far as to use you as an emotional crutch. To leave was to put him in a vulnerable headspace, but you couldn’t be there for him forever, not even if you wanted to.

“Not that he won’t freak out if you told him now, but he might not fly off the handle when you do.”

“But what about the apartment?” You asked, voice faint. Now that moving out was on the table, every doubt you’ve ever had flooded your mind in a rush of anxiety. “And what about Bob? I can’t just leave.”

“We’ll be fine,” Amy assured, holding your shoulder. It was a blanket statement at best, but how else were things supposed to be? “Allen will have to get a job someday. And Bob won’t be small forever.”

“But he’s only six months old.” You uttered.

“He can sit upright and eat scrambled eggs, now. That’s pretty big if you ask me.” She nudged you.

You laughed some, thankful for her lightheartedness.

“But, point is,” She went back to pushing her cart, as reflective of the continuation of the conversation. “You’ve already been there for the most crucial part of his life. And nine months before that too.”

“Of course I was, Amy. That’s a given.”

“What if it’s not supposed to be given?” She asked, much to your dismay. “You’ve already done so much for us, and I can’t just force you to stay forever. That would be the most selfish thing I could do to you.”

“Maybe,” You replied stiffly. Everything she just said was a stark reminder of what you told Allen once, and you always regretted it from the bottom of your heart. “But you aren’t forcing me to do anything.”

“Really?”

“I love living with you guys,” You let out, voice faint to hide the sadness in it. “You’re my best friend.”

Amy stood perfectly still, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. Then, she turned to you, eyes wide. When she saw that you were barely holding it together, she did something completely out of character.

She hugged you as tight as she could.

“I know.” She shut her eyes. “But you have to go.”

You hugged her back, lips pursed tightly in a frown. She knew what you really wanted, and would go to great lengths for you to have it. Even if it meant letting you go, the hardest thing she could ever do.

“Do you think Bob will remember me?”

“He will if you visit,” She released you with a content smile, knowing she managed to convince you. So, she took in your face for what felt like the last time. “So don’t go somewhere I can’t get to, okay?”

Getting Amelia on board with the idea was easy because she was already all for it. Allen, on the other hand, would be a completely different story. But you had to tell him someday, even if that wasn’t today.

You pushed the door open to the local boxing gym.

When you got inside, you saw Mathias doing mitt work with Allen. Their brewing friendship was the most unexpected development yet, and you had to cover your mouth to hide your enthusiasm.

They had more in common than they looked.

The sun was almost set when you three walked home together. Allen had his arms folded behind his head, his dark eyes staring into the distance. Mathias had your hand in his, which squeezed you here and there.

“So,” You began, breaking the comfortable silence with a query. “Are you two friends now?”

They both made a face, brows raised and squinting.

“I don’t think Allen would be comfortable with that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, alright.” You sighed, stifling a laugh at their synchronization. “I was just curious, is all.”

“Saying we’re friends would be putting him on the same level as you. And that’s gross.” Allen mumbled.

“There’s always distinctions you make with different friends you have,” You glanced at him and watched his expression intently, which didn’t seem to change. “Surely you have friends you’re close to, or not at all.”

“Not really,” He shrugged. “I mean, I used to.”

A brief silence followed, and you were left to put the pieces together. Mathias didn’t have any idea what he implied, but you knew better. He must’ve been talking about his pals from Afghanistan.

“It’s fine.” Allen grinned at you. “I have you guys.”

You didn’t say anything more, only bringing his arm down to hold it. He appreciated the gesture, the discreteness of it, and smiled warmly at you to prove it. You smiled back as if to tell him he was right.

He had you, Amy, and Bob.

Slowly, but surely, Mathias could make the cut too.

“You told Amy,” You began, staying in the doorway as he shuffled through his things in his bedroom. Allen waited outside in the front yard, giving you both a moment of privacy, however brief that may be.

Mathias stopped for a moment, back turned to you.

“Are you mad at me?” He murmured.

“No,” You neared him, gaze softening. He glanced over his shoulder, surprised. But that dissolved into relief as soon as you said this. “I’m actually glad you did. I don’t think I would’ve been able to tell her.”

“I’m glad,” He smiled, taking your hands.

You smiled back, warmed by his touch.

“She loves you more than you know.”

Out of the four of you, Mathias was the least afraid of change. It took a lot of faith to carry himself the way he did, and he did so naturally. Without him, you would’ve been stuck in the same place for years.

“So, what did she say?”

Allen kicked a pebble off the pavement. When he glanced up at the apartment again, he saw you two having a conversation. About what, he didn’t know. But he could make a judgement from afar.

The way Mathias looked at you, laughed, then picked you up in the tightest embrace had him wondering if this was the end of everything he knew. It was a huge jump from point a to b, but he wasn’t stupid.

He looked too happy for it to be anything else.

You did too, talking excitedly about something he wasn’t a part of, and never would be. When that dawned on Allen, he turned away, heart in his hand. That night, he walked home by himself.

Out on the balcony where he always was, he knelt over his plants and tended to them. Basil, thyme, sage, and parsley—all Summer herbs. He snipped off the stalks and harvested them for the coming Fall.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I thought you were staying at his place.”

“If I was, I would’ve said that.” You stepped outside with him. When he didn’t respond, you instantly knew he was bent out of shape over something, but what, you didn’t know. “What is this really about?”

“Nothing,” He kept chopping his plants, but his movements grew less and less controlled as he continued. His front was already crumbling, and you just got here. “Everything’s just nice and peachy.”

“Okay, Al.” You relented, turning to the sliding door.

The sight of your back was all it took.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have to.”

What remained of his hard exterior was all but gone. You broke him down all over again, and simply by letting him be. He couldn’t take it anymore. Not the distance, or the reality that he could never have you.

“Wait.” He stood up, sighing. “Don’t close that door.”

You stopped halfway through the door frame, your eyes softening at his change of heart. If he had something to tell you, you did too. And your concerns were realer than what he thought he saw out there.

“I wanna talk.”

Mathias knocked on the doorframe of his coach’s office. In his hand was the slip of paper he’d been itching to get for the past month. He handed it to his mentor, who scanned it before tossing it on his desk.

With that out of the way, the old man stood up and brushed past him in a slight hobble.

“Get your wraps. We’re gonna start with the basics.”

Allen stood with you on the balcony, his arms draped over the railing. He stared into the night as he tried to think of the words. After a few minutes of mulling it over, this was the best he could come up with.

“So, what, he propose to you or something?”

“No!” You shot him a heated look, watching his brows go up. “Is that what you were upset about?”

He pursed his lips, hands raised in denial. But seeing that you were unconvinced, he just sucked it up.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he didn’t propose, okay?”

“Then that’s all I wanted to know,” He grinned, voice rich with satisfaction. He went back to his usual self almost instantly, hopping back into the living room. “Now all I’m missing is a kiss for good measure.”

“A kiss?” You stifled a laugh.

“You know I’m only kidding.” He scraped the bottom of his flip-flops against the entry mat to clean them. When Allen faced you again, he leaned against the door frame. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

He might’ve said one thing, but the gentle smile on his face meant another. And since you couldn’t give him what he really wanted, you gave him the next best thing. You leaned forward and hugged him.

Allen’s arms went around you on instinct, like a reflex he didn’t need to think about. There, he nestled his chin on your head, closing his eyes in the embrace. Then, his smile grew out of a deep sense of peace.

Now this wasn’t so bad. He also got the assurances he needed, so why was he still so sad?

“Listen, Al.”

Mathias raised his gloved fists, bright red in color.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

With his head low and eyes up, he looked intensely focused as he jabbed the sandbag in front of him. Only they were nothing but light taps, hitting the same spot on the leather, over and over.

“Okay, then tell me.” Allen was a little unnerved that you even had to announce it. What he saw tonight, how he always felt around you, and your anxious demeanor only seemed to validate that fear.

“I’m moving out with Mat.” You finally let out.

“Oh.”

A few seconds of painstaking silence went by.

“When?”

Mathias tightened the strings of his hoodie until only his face was left uncovered. Now that Summer was ending, he could feel a cool breeze on his morning runs. The seasons were changing, and so was he.

“I don’t know, but probably sometime after his tournament. We haven’t decided on anything yet,” You answered truthfully, scanning his face for something, anything. But he gave you nothing.

“Does Amy know?”

Or so you thought.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I told her last week.”

“Right.” He looked down, eyes darkening. It was inconceivable that anybody could be so hurt over something so minor, but Allen wasn’t just anybody. “Why am I always the last one to know things?”

“I was gonna tell you, Al. I promise.” You spoke softly, taking his arms. “I just had to find the right time.”

“Why is it always Amy you go to when you know something will affect me most?” He rubbed his eyes with one hand, choking back a sob. “You guys are always keeping things from me and leaving me out!”

“We only do that because we don’t wanna hurt you!” You flushed, making him shake his head bitterly.

“You’re gonna hurt me anyway. So you might as well just say it.” Allen muttered, staring dead into your eyes as a single tear fell from his. His words were cutting, and the way he looked at you, even more so.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice broke. “I never mean to.”

He was right about being excluded, and he had all the right in the world to berate you for it. It was also selfish to expect him to react any different, especially when you’ve always known of his greatest fear.

Being isolated, physically or mentally.

“And you probably already knew that, too.” He shook his head again, turning away to get to your bedroom. But before he could lock himself in it, you grabbed onto his wrist. “You just didn’t wanna freak me out.”

“Of course I didn’t wanna freak you out,” You let out, tone desperate. “That’s the only reason why I have a hard time telling you about these things. Not because I don’t love you, or don’t feel close to you.”

“And how’s that turning out for you?” He faced you, eyes burning with truth. “I’ll find out anyway. I always do. Then I’ll find my own time to freak out. Because that’s just what I do. That’s what I’m the best at.”

Usually, he was the one making compromises in conversations, taking the fall for his faults.

“Losing my temper. Because I’m a fucking manic.”

“That’s not true!”

But right now, he was as quick as a whip.

And he was right about everything.

“It is, though. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here having this fucking conversation.” Allen glared, but his anger with you only lasted so long. “And since we’re here, you wanna know why I flipped out in the first place?”

“Why did you flip out, then?” You uttered.

“It’s not just because I have a thing for you, okay?” He exclaimed, chest heaving and face reddening.

“Then why?” You flushed, eyes darting restlessly.

“Because if you get married, you’re gonna go away.” Allen said shakily, voice faint with unbearable hurt. “You’re gonna go somewhere I can’t get to, get busy, have a few babies, and you won’t have time for me.”

Your face contorted.

“Then you’re gonna forget about me,”

It was unthinkable that you could ever cut him out of your life, but he was already treating it like reality.

“And I won’t be a part of your life anymore.”

“You’ll always be a part of my life, Allen.” You reached up to caress his face, currently streaked with tears. “Even if we won’t see each other as much, I’ll always be thinking of you. And I’d still call and visit you.”

“But that’s not good enough,” He choked.

“I won’t be far, I promise. I promised Amy that too.”

“But you won’t be here.”

“You have to learn be independent from me, Allen.”

He shook his head, breathing too hard to manage a verbal protest. You were asking way too much of him, even if it was just to live out partially separate lives. You were his rock, and he wasn’t ready to let you go.

“But you also have to trust me.”

A string was tied across the ring like a washing line. The gym was dark, save for the spotlight they stood under, coach and pupil. The pupil in question stood next to the line, his shoulder barely just grazing it.

Then, he ducked under it to the other side.

He repeated the motion, bobbing under the line from side to side. By bending down and moving quickly from left to right, he could dodge anything thrown at him. But the timing and range had to be perfect.

“I’m so jealous of Mathias,” He squeezed you, eyes shut tight as he whispered frantically into your neck. “He’s got everything going for him. When he wants something, he just gets it. I can’t do that.”

“I think we’ve all felt that way before,” You admitted, holding him closer. “He’s the best of all of us.”

Mathias rolled under a punch, dodging it like second nature. When he rose, he jabbed his opponent twice, getting them to back up. He was a speed demon, taking advantage of their mistakes on the fly.

With the newly-established distance, he threw his fist up for a killer uppercut. It collided with their jaw, throwing their head back in a splash of saliva. And just like that, his partner fell on the mat, defeated.

“But there’s something you have that he doesn’t.”

“And what’s that?” Allen murmured, pulling back.

“Mathias and I can fight, argue, or even break up one day, but not us,” You answered, frowning deeply. “And I know that sounds bad, but there’s nothing in the world that could change what we have.”

He smiled and bowed his head at what he’d already known, a truth he constantly needed reminding of. But you always knew the right thing to say. And for that, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

“You’ll always be my family.”

“Maybe that’s why I never tried anything,” Allen said. He’d been so hung up over what he could’ve had, he never realized this was what he really wanted all along. “Because I didn’t wanna ruin what we had.”

“And what did we have?” You smiled.

He gazed up at you, eyes twinkling.

“Something perfect.”

He was your best friend, and maybe a little more than that, but he made it a point to never cross that line. What you had with Allen was incorruptible, the kind of love people spent their entire lives looking for.

“Something pure.” He kissed you on the forehead, the most innocent kind of affection one could give. And you leaned in, basking in the warmth of his soft lips. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Allen stayed with you all night. With your body next to his, he never fell asleep so fast. This may only be for so long, but he couldn’t be upset about it forever. You were moving on, and he had to accept that.

“That makes seven rompers and five pairs of pants,”

You sorted through the baby clothes in the basket Mathias held. He insisted on tagging along with you to ‘help you hold things,’ but you had a sneaking suspicion he came for another spending spree.

“Anything else we need?”

“Uhhh,” He scanned the shopping list with a focused expression. “Four pajama outfits… And a tank top?”

“Oh. That’s for Allen,” You pointed at the bottom of the note. “See how the handwriting changes?”

“Oh,” Mathias mumbled. Now that you mentioned it. When he glanced up again, you were off to look for those items, so he did what he thought would be the next best thing: doing some browsing on his own.

When he approached you for your opinion, you were still in the baby section, picking out sleepers.

“What do you think?” He held two outfits in front of you and moved them up and down. “Blue or yellow?

“Those are for newborns, Mathias,” You answered, going back to the rack. “They’re not gonna fit Bob,”

“I know they’re for newborns.”

“If I say ‘blue’ and see the blue one in your dresser, I’m seriously gonna murder you,” You sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. And frankly speaking, you were a little nervous.

“Okaaay. Does that mean you’ll spare me if I buy the yellow one?” He hummed with growing smile.

“Mat,” You shot him a heated look, embarrassed out of your wits. “The bear was cute, but this is crazy.”

“But these are cute too!”

“No, I meant you,” You sighed, stifling a defeated laugh at his outburst. “We haven’t even moved out and you’re already thinking that far ahead. Imagine what Allen would do to you if I ever got pregnant.”

“You don’t have to wait for his approval, you know?” Mathias grumbled, putting both outfits back, blue and yellow. “I know he’s close to you, but what we do is none of his business. So he should stay out of it.”

“Still,” You shook your head. “You’re going too fast.”

“I know, I know. I just got excited,” He sighed, noting how worried you looked. And it was a fair reaction given the kind of person he was. Tenacious, self-indulgent, and apparently, family-oriented.

But he’d be damned if he didn’t already learn his lesson. So he stopped you in the aisle, hands on your shoulders. “I’m not rushing you into anything. Especially not something this important, okay?”

“Good,” You softened your gaze, peering up at him. “Because I don’t wanna fight with you anymore.”

If anything, he’d save this for after the tournament.

“I wouldn’t wanna fight me either.”

You were about to give him an earful for being so unserious, but you let it slide this time. After overcoming a roadblock and months of preparation, he was finally in shape for his biggest event yet.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” He grinned. “But I’m ready.”

Next chapter: Finale Part I

Tag-list: @sunnysssol @chicha027 @javelintine @sport-lova @archive-of-bones

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winxanity-ii · 5 months ago

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SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

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