#father charlie mayhew one shot

[erajunex]

The House of Sin. (part 1)

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: Father Charlie Mayhew x housekeeper!fem!reader

Summary: Your very religious family decides to preserve you from the evil of the world by entrusting you to Father Charlie as his housekeeper. You’re welcome in the House of Sin.

TW (for this part): NSFW. SMUT. blasphemy; mentions and references to catholic themes (some of them are prob inaccurate sorry); reader is very religious (but not innocent); mentions of blood; graphic description of self-inflicted flagellation; masturbation; voyeurism; swearing.

a/n: English is not my first language, so please be kind bc this took me so long to translate (lol), if you wanna be added to the tag-list for the next part lemme know with a comment pls

Enjoy xx

Father Charlie Mayhew had always been faithful and devoted to the promises he made before God when he decided to please Him for the rest of his earthly life, and with the same devotion he always made an effort to spread love for God within his parish.

In his whole life, he never felt the slightest desire to act in opposition to the Lord's word, he never succumbed to temptation, and his spirit never entertained the idea of sinning.

He was the perfect servant, the best guide for his parish, and for the faithful whom the Lord entrusted to him.

Or at least that was what everyone believed about him, including your parents, who thought that offering you the position of Father Charlie’s housekeeper would be the best way to protect you from the vices and dangers of the outside world.

Your father was a strict and religious man who raised you with rules and discipline, so you accepted his decisions without question.

Father Charlie knew your family well and recognized your parents' honesty and devotion, so he had high expectations for you, and you would’ve met all of them.

The initial period of living together at his house was quite peaceful, and being with him felt comfortable from the very first day. You spent your days peacefully working for him, cleaning his house and the church, doing laundry, and preparing lunch and dinner. Nevertheless, you always found a moment for prayer. You shared everything with him and you were grateful and respectful at the point you considered him a master despite his young age.

You recognized your parents' admiration for him, and you shared it too because he was a decent man who cared for all his faithful and his mission as God's servant. He was charismatic, persuasive, and seemingly flawless. To be honest, his personality intrigued you. You had to admit that sometimes you found him charming, but those were just fleeting thoughts that you quickly pushed aside— till tonight.

It’s late at night; all the lights are off, and Father Charlie has retired to his room about an hour ago.

You’ve just finished washing the dishes and are getting ready for the night. As you prepare to head to the room he had assigned to you when you first arrived, a flicker of light and subtle noise from his door catch your attention as you walk through the hallway.

At first, you think it’s just a perception, but as your feet slow down until they stop in the hallway, you realize your ears are not wrong.

Driven by curiosity you approach the door slowly, trying not to make a sound as you peek through the half-closed door to see out what is happening inside his room. But, you know, sometimes curiosity can kill.

You freeze. Your jaw drops, and your eyes widen as they look straight at the scene being etched in your memory.

Father Charlie sits at the edge of the bed, fully exposed to your gaze, the soft light casting shadows on his bare skin. His back is turned to the painting of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall, a watchful presence above him from which he is trying to hide himself.

He’s panting. He’s completely naked. With one hand around his cock.

His eyes are closed and his slightly parted lips release soft moans of pleasure, the rhythm of his breath filling the quiet room. A sheen of sweat glistens on his naked body as he keeps moving his left hand at a rapid pace, trying to set himself free from the lustful thoughts that had taken over his body as soon as possible.

Your breath breaks.

You can’t believe it. Father Charlie has succumbed to the desire of the flesh, his soul becoming stained by a sin he should never have committed. Not him. Not a priest like him.

And without knowing, he‘s pulling you into the Devil’s claws with him.

Because no matter how shocked you are, and no matter how hard you’re mentally cursing yourself for being overcome by curiosity, your eyes are glued to his magnificent body and cannot tear themselves away from it.

You are expected to go, but you can't. You don't want to.

For the first time in your whole yet short life, you hear it. That voice. The voice of temptation.

You continue to stare at him with bated breath, wishing that show will never end.

"Ah, fuck..." he groans and you shudder.

A shiver goes straight to your core, and you immediately feel an urge to clench your thighs together to hold back an unusual tickle that you had never experienced so strongly before.

However, it is not sufficient.

Forgive me, Father… you think. Your cheeks redden with shame as the last bit of reason fades away from you at that precise moment your right hand goes straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it has been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaks between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

You aren’t used to touching yourself, and even if you had done it on rare occasions you'd never imagined doing it like this— secretly watching your priest as he does the same thing.

Soon you realize that something inside you is changing rapidly. It‘s just a tiny spark, but it can set your whole body on fire in no time.

And it’s all his fault.

Your fingertips slide between your already-soaked folds, coating in juices that flow out of you like a river, and then you start teasing yourself shamefully, trying to focus on the scene in front of you to avoid those pitiful and lonely voices that keep whispering to you to stop.

“Yes…” he licks his lower lip and for a brief moment you imagine how good, how pleasant it could be the feeling of his wet tongue on your skin, exactly where your hand is. It’s so, so wrong and you know it, but you can’t control yourself. It’s overwhelming.

His nudity contrasts sharply with the solemnity of the image behind him. He looks so vulnerable, so…

“So good…” he says between moans. You want to know what he’s thinking, what kind of images are guiding his imagination— if you’re part of them too.

His forearm anchors on the mattress to balance himself, and his hips buck against his hand to gain more friction.

“Oh, God…” his broad chest is heaving with every breath that escapes his lungs as you try your best to swallow every squeak, careful not to get caught right there.

Sweat covers his forehead, small drops sliding down his ecstatic face and neck, igniting your deepest fantasies while your fingertips rub at your clit in circular motions, mimicking the pace at which he’s stroking his length.

You can’t help but look at it. Thick and veiny, the tip red and leaking with precum, your pussy throbs around nothing at the mere idea of putting his whole girth in your virgin mouth and knowing how good it could taste.

The man bites his lips and you do it too in reflection.

You are a mess. Your trembling thighs are soaked by the juices dripping from your aching pussy as you frantically touch yourself. Your entire being lies completely under the tight grip of the Devil, ensnared in a web of darkness that seeks to control every thought, feeling, and action.

His strokes become erratic, and his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of pain and bliss. He is close… and in such a short time you are too. Your teeth bite your lower lip until it bleeds, in a desperate attempt to hold back a whine. But you don't stop. You will not do it until he will too.

All of a sudden, his hand stops. A guttural sound of satisfaction slips past his throat reaching your ears as he throws his head back and the orgasm washes over him.

The tight knot in your belly snaps and thousands of shocks invade your body from head to toe. Your vision goes blurry, your mind goes fuzzy and your knees get weak like jelly.

You’ve just reached the peak without even knowing it.

Thick ropes of his white seed spill from his throbbing cock, falling right on his palm and stomach.

Your mouth waters at the sight, you can swear that if only it had been possible you’d walk into that damn room and kneel in between his huge thighs just to lick him clean and suck the soul out of him, making him cum again and again and again.

For God’s sake, those thoughts will send you straight to hell!

Silence takes his moans’ place, and his eyes open slightly as his breathing searches for a more regular pace, just like yours.

You pull out your hand from your soaked panties. A wave of post-orgasmic sense of guilt crashes over you. You have just sinned. Right now is time to go to your room and get some rest, forgetting what have just happened and never thinking again about it, and yet your eyes and your feet are stuck right here, quivering for his next moves.

Everything has been so tempting and your body wants more.

He suddenly gets up from the mattress and makes his way towards the antique dresser next to the bed. A bowl full of water is on top of it, and he quickly dips both his hands inside of it to his wrists, washing away every sign of the sinful act he had just committed—unaware it’s happened in front of you.

From that spot, his body is perfectly exposed to your gaze, and your mind takes advantage of this to explore new, undiscovered places.

He‘s tall, radiant, and huge. He looks like a classical statue. His broad chest and chiseled abs seem to be sculpted in marble, just like his thick thighs and the strong and muscular arms he usually hides under the vestments.

He’s handsome.

Only the Lord knows what those arms are capable of, how those big and veiny hands would be able to touch and grab a woman’s body- your body. How good his mouth would be able to kiss you, bite you, lick you, satisfying the most private parts of you like no one ever did. If only he didn’t have to respect the vows of celibacy and obedience... if only he didn't choose to refuse lust and resist temptation for the rest of his life…

He wipes his hands with a clean towel near the basin, heavy breathing releasing from his lungs as if he wants to get rid of that slamming weight on his shoulders. The weight of the mortal sin he has just given into, the reason why he deserves to be punished— and maybe you deserve it too.

You see him going through the drawer and picking something before he lifts the wooden kneeler to the side. And when he approaches the bed again, you recognize the scourge in his hand.

Your heartbeat down faster as soon as you realize what’s going to happen. Father Charlie places the kneeler in front of the bed, exactly where he was before, and turnes his back to you, revealing his broad shoulders and his back previously tortured by the hits he self-inflicted with the tool he’s now placing on the sheets.

A bunch of shivers flood your body from head to toe, trepassing your spine. You see the still-opened wounds and cuts on his pale skin, the clear signs of every time he sinned and begged for forgiveness.

He kneels and firmly takes the scourge in his right hand. Seven cords, seven barbs for the seven deadly sins, and seven virtues.

The mortification of the flesh.

It‘s the only way to deaden his sinful nature and bring back his focus to the only thing he pledged to honour even after his bodily death.

He rests his elbows on the board, with his back straight as he looks at the white wall in front of him, his eyes filled with certainty and confidence.

He stands right there unshaken, keeping you on edge for his next move before his lips parts and he speaks.

"Merciful Lord, I come before You seeking forgiveness and healing" with a rapid flick of his hand he whips himself violently, making you gasp in shock. You hear him holding his breath, trying his best not to cry and scream from pain, and then he spakes again.

"f-for the sin of lust that… dwells within me." another lash, another flinch from you. Cords are already leaving marks and bruises, you can feel how much they sting on his skin and on his previous wounds as the sharp edges sink on his back mercilessly.

"I confess m-my weakness in giving in to… impure desires" his stomach jolts in pain, and his dilated pupils stare blankly at the painting on the wall as his lips tremble with each syllable "and… indulging in lustful t-thoughts and actions t-that offend… You."

A lot of blood starts gushing out from his wounds, staining the cords with a bright red color.

You cover your mouth in shock. You can see the pained look on his face, pleasure has completely abandoned his now-suffering body that‘s writhing at the feeling of those rusty barbs tearing his flesh apart at every whipping, painting the cold floor with the spatters of his own blood.

Father Charlie is asking for forgiveness, pleading the Lord to save him and have mercy on his damned soul, because he is aware of the burden on his shoulders and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

And the only way to regain his purity is through suffering, through that physical pain that can purify both his body and soul, leaving him weak and miserable like a dazed sailor who lost his compass and cannot find the horizon.

"Purify my heart" he barely mutters, too exhausted "renew my mind" his forearms lost their grip on the rubbed wood of the kneeler forcing him to cling to it as strength slowly leaves his body. You watch him with an alarmed look on your face, worried about his state "and sanctify my body as Your temple."

A final statement spoken with a broken voice before Father Charlie immediately collapses on the wooden structure, visibly in a worn out state. Spurting blood stains his bare back, his eyelids squeeze trying to kill the pain of that one last whip that completely slashed his flesh.

You accidentally step back with your left foot, producing a nearly undetectable noise that forces you to lean your hand against the wall to keep balance in an attempt not to get caught. Too late.

Father Charlie turns around quickly, towards the door he previously left slightly ajar. His gloomy eyes meet yours even if shrouded in darkness. Your heart stops in your chest, becoming like a stone falling into a bottomless pit.

Shit.

a/n: part 2?

[winxanity-ii]

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 😩...

[tokyoghls]

like a prayer — c. mayhew ･˳ . ⋆

✧ ࣪ ─ ᥫ᭡ cw. blowjob, oral fixation, cum eating/feeding, religious/blasphemy themes, fem!reader. innocent/clueless!reader. mdni.

☆ an ☆ hellooo, hope you like this one, I tried so hard to portray charlie as best as i could since I’ve just read fanfics and haven’t actually watched the series, BUT as soon as it’s available on Disney+ I’ll watch it 🙂‍↕️

**also, keep in mind that this is just a fanfic, I don’t mean any disrespect towards religion or anything.

There wasn’t a way to explain the feeling, for it made his heart quicken and resolve to thin— sinful thoughts to dance around his mind like tiny devils with horns and tails, whispering wrongdoings to his ear.

He never considered himself to be weak and uncharacteristically doubtful. He knew right from wrong, yet he couldn’t help but steal a glance your way during mass— white lace veil hiding your face from his eyes, waiting for the minute you’d uncover and showed your tight knit brows and full lips, gaze set on the chapel’s ceiling as if looking directly at god’s eyes and wishing you’d glance his way instead, but you never do.

And he always finds himself thanking God you didn’t, as he wouldn’t find it in him to hold back if you had look his way and realized his sinful intentions, the way his thoughts traveled to your Sunday’s attire and pretty hands touching every surface in his office.

That’s why he’s been intentionally avoiding you�� walking out of his office five minutes before you come to clean it, and if by any chance you came in earlier, he wouldn’t engage in conversation, making something up and mumbling a quick goodbye so he could avoid looking at your buttocks, displayed beneath that pretty white dress you choose to always wear on Sundays, or the way you chewed on your pencil in thought.

He’d find himself secluded in his room trying to find a way to get you out of his mind, and he found one, but eventually it failed.

The first time he’d done something like that, he thought all it took to forget about you was to rub one off and get on with it, but it was useless— he knew this the moment he realized, that, after every Sunday mass where he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, he locked himself inside his room and jerked off to the thought of you: kneeling on the pew, hands on a prayer and brows furrowing while your lips formed shapes and let out soft exhales with every word spoken.

Just like now, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

“Father Charlie, did I do something wrong?”.

Your voice pulled him out of his trance, eyes blinking twice and mind focusing in the present. He’s daydreaming. Again.

“Mmh?”.

He hasn’t been listening at all, too busy looking at your clavicle where a cross rested to notice the concerned tinge in your voice.

“Are you okay, Father?”.

He nodded, hands intertwining behind his back and anxious fingers scratching at each other, “Yes, don’t worry, my mind drifted elsewhere for a minute- what were you saying just now?”.

“Alright, umm- I asked if I had done anything to upset you?”.

“Of course not, why would you think that?”, he scoffed, trying to come up with something to change the subject. He didn’t want to say he thinks about you in a sinful way, he’s the father of this chapel after all— it wasn’t remotely okay to think about one of his parishioners that way.

Your gaze nervously shifted to the ceiling, fingers fumbling with each other in front of you, “Well, you’ve been ignoring me lately I tho-”.

“Is not what you think, I’ve just been busy with… something”.

Well, he couldn’t say he’s been busy jerking off to the thought of you sprawled on his desk could he? It was the smartest response he could come up with but also the dumbest.

“Oh well, then uhm… my mom’s waiting for me so I’ll go now”.

Charlie couldn’t do more than watch as your figure disappeared and get lost in thought once again.

Since that interaction, he hasn’t seen you around much— you didn’t attend church two consecutive Sundays, but eventually you returned, looking as beautiful as ever. He’s watching you again, but just to a certain point where your parents won’t notice the lingering glances and tiny smiles he’d send your way.

He has just finished the mass, everyone scattered around, greeting friends and family, him too- he was a loved priest. And of course, your family had to greet him.

“Father Charlie, we’re so pleased to see you again”, your mother spoke fondly, gaze shifting to you, standing behind your father as if you were a scared child. “C’mon honey, Father Charlie is waiting for you to say hello- oh sorry, she’s not in the mood now, she fell sick and she’s not feeling well…”.

Charlie tried to ignore the fact you were partly avoiding him, gaze set on him but also full of doubt. He could just smile thinking that you probably thought he was mad at you. “Don’t worry, I was quite surprised by your absence, but I’m glad you’ve returned”, he nodded, adding teasingly. “You’re my most devoted congregants, and not seeing you here for so long had me thinking you’ve found another church”.

“Oh no! Don’t say things like that!”, your mother giggled and shook her head, “We would never, we’re very attached to this church, my family and I used to come here every Sunday when I was young- I have many great memories here…”.

Charlie wasn’t paying attention to your mom and her incessant rambling anymore, he was paying attention to you. Maybe a little too much that he didn’t hear half of what your mother said.

“… and now we’re looking for a suitable husband for our dear daughter, of course we’d want him to be one of our dear brothers of this church, they all are decent men”

That caught his attention and a mocking snort left his lips. Your mom’s confused gaze made him remember his current position, and awkward cough leaving his lips, “Don’t mind me, continue…”.

You, marrying one of these guys? One of these prude and revolting guys being able to take your hand in marriage…? He couldn’t imagine of one of them warming your bed every night, was it jealousy? That, one of these men, would have you first?

“actually- we wanted to reach out to you, father, we believe you can be of great help for her to learn the ways of a happy marriage, based on respect and love. So, father, what do you think?”.

He couldn’t allow that, not even in a million years.

“Sorry, what I think about what?”. Charlie replied apologetically, looking partly ashamed for not paying attention to your dear mom. Though he wasn’t sure what she was really asking for, he missed half of the speech because of thinking about your possible suitors.

“About teaching our daughter the ways to a happy marriage, you know, principles, respect, values… we’d be very happy if you could help her learn- me and her father are far from being a perfect marriage, and we tried to teach her to some extent, but we’d like it if she learns from God’s hands from now on…”.

Your mom really shouldn’t have said that.

“Fa-father, are you sure this is the right lesson?”. you asked breathless, lips puffy and covered in a thin layer of spit, glistening under the warm lights in his office.

You were quite confused since this wasn’t the usual lessons Father Charlie imparted.

He glanced down at you, hand touching your cheek affectionately, the corner of his mouth twitching. He loved your innocence. “Of course, you need to learn to give proper head to your soon to be husband- now keep going, yeah? Your mother was quite specific when she said she wanted you to learn”.

With a nod of your head, you returned to your task. Tongue peeking out to give a lick to his reddened tip, a bead of salty precum attaching to your warm muscle. You were so close to stuff him all inside your mouth, he’s been working your throat muscles to accommodate him completely and you were quite greedy now, you think you can take him all the way in without your throat burning from the tight stretch.

From your position on the floor, you could look up at any moment and see his conflicted features, he was holding back so you could learn properly— or so he told you.

He was being patient and generous with you, he didn’t want his student chocking on his dick on her first try.

“Careful with those teeth, don’t want my dick bruised”. you hummed and he groaned, loving the way it felt when you did that. A desperate cry left your lips when you couldn’t stuff his dick completely inside, it was so thick and long that it almost embarrassed you to think you could take it without a problem. He noticed that and caressed your hair reassuringly, holding your nape and pushing you down carefully. “Slow, take your time yeah?”.

Breathing through your nose, you held back your tears and let him take the lead. You tried so hard not to gag, thinking about other things like the rough fabric of the tapestry beneath your knees, just to distract your mind from the pressure his dick was inducing your throat in.

But it was futile.

He tried to pull you all the way down but when he heard your muffled gag, he stopped, leaving you to catch your breath, not minding the way your nails dug into his hips trying to push away from him. He held you in place and consoled you.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, it’ll pass… I thought you were ready to take this lesson, tch… I think we should stop now”. The voice that was once filled with lust, now was filled with mockery.

You made a sound denying his request, taking a deep inhale through your nose and engulfing his shaft inside your mouth again, almost going all the way down— it was still a hard task but you found a way to accommodate more of him inside.

“God help me…”. He murmured, eyes shooting up to the ceiling, chest heaving up and down, balls tight and jaw locked. If he kept clenching his teeth like that, they’d surely fall out.

Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the way your mouth was full of his dick and mouth corners were glistening with a mixture of spit and cum, traveling all the way to your chin and jaw, made his mind spiral with lust and exasperated groans to leave his lips— he didn’t want to cum so soon.

You were doing so good for him, so good… Even if he wanted to blame himself for falling into temptation, he couldn’t think about that now— about the hopefulness on your mother’s face when he accepted this task. He wanted to make it right. So he was going to give his all, even if it meant tarnishing your innocence with his selfish and lust filled soul.

You started sucking his dick as if you were drinking through a straw, a tiny gasp leaving your mouth the moment his hips jerked, filling your mouth with his dick entirely, no restrictions, without consideration... Your eyes opened wide, nails digging again in his thighs, tapping incessantly on them to make him stop. You couldn’t breath, but you could hear his own moan ring through the room.

Your protests fell into deaf ears, Charlie’s hips kept fucking your mouth as if he was fucking your pussy— with a hunger equivalent to that of the abstinent man he was.

Even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. He felt so good he didn’t find it in himself to cease the attack on your mouth, he wanted you to learn, so stopping now would be wasting all the hard work he’d been doing.

Tears escaped the corners of your tight closed eyes, your clit throbbed with every push of his hips and moans he left out, you were so enjoying it even if it hurt a bit, even if it was hard to breath you didn’t want him to stop, not when he tasted this good.

“I’m gonna cum now, princess— won’t do that while I’m inside your mouth, but I want you to keep it open, tongue out”, he instructed, pulling his reddened dick out of your mouth with a pop, a thread of saliva and cum keeping it connected to your lips.

Your mouth opened and your tongue peeked out, showing the thin layer of cum that accumulated on your pink muscle. You watched as his hand grabbed his dick, jerking it up and down with desperation.

He lasted a few seconds before he came, white spurts of cum falling all over your chin and inside your mouth, “Swallow”, he ordered before you did exactly that. Charlie smiled, hand lifting up to wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb, pushing it inside your mouth with more of his cum.

“That’s it… don’t waste any of it”.

[angelssmvse]

𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙎 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙔𝙃𝙀𝙒 𝙓 𝙁𝙀𝙈 !𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝜗𝜚 (smut)

𝜗𝜚 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 The ordinary girl, always abiding by the rules—so innocent and pure. But sometimes, stepping outside those boundaries can be a good thing, can't it? And Father Charlie is about to show you how. (P.S. he’s gentle with you)

𝜗𝜚 𝘼/𝙉 So recently I made this edit and oh God I had this urge to write a smut — and please feel free to send me any requests. Enjoy, angels<3 ( click here to watch the edit )

𝜗𝜚 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 smut! minors DNI. This narrative contains mature themes and explicit content, including strong language, depictions of violence, adult situations (smut), and elements of both humor and tenderness. Reader discretion is advised.

It's been months since you and Father Charlie began talking and spending time together. Your conversations often revolve around beliefs, modern society, and even psychology. Yet, what intrigues you both the most is uncovering each other's thoughts and understanding what truly goes on in each other's minds.

You always saw him as the mysterious type of man—the kind you’d chase despite knowing he’d probably hurt you.

And then there was you. God, he hated you. To him, you were almost angelic, divine in every sense, as though you’d barely sinned a day in your life. Your eyes held a magnetic pull, and your presence was undeniably comforting.

He was a mess, yet somehow, you managed to understand him—at least in part—and soothe his anger.

“The desires of the flesh do not come from the Father…but from the world,” Father Charlie intones, his voice steady as he reads from the Bible in his hands. “But in the end,” he continues, setting the Bible down on the nearest surface, “we are all…” — “Sinners,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “So fuck it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

In an instant, you find yourself pressed down onto his bed, his body over yours, his lips claiming yours in a fervent kiss. The kiss deepens, the atmosphere grows charged, your heart pounds, and your bodies remain entwined.

He gently positions himself as he slowly begins to move, you arch your back towards him in pleasure, softly moaning holding his defined shoulders as your nails dig into the skin causing it to bleed. He growls taking your wrists and holding them tight to keep you still “Father-“ you whimper, he shuts you up by kissing you, your tongues dancing as he quickens up his pace.

Father Charlie felt your climax building up and your walls tightening around him, “Fuck…” he whimpers in pleasure drowning himself in the crook of your shoulder; kissing your soft skin and leaving trails of love marks behind as he goes on.

Tears began to fall down your cheeks, your legs tight around him letting you come. He finishes and collapses on top of you, his lips brushing softly against your skin. Your hands, now free, move to the back of his head as you gently play with his hair. "Hey now," he chuckles, lifting himself slightly to meet your gaze.

You both savored every moment—every second spent together. But was it wrong…this feeling?

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story; please do not copy nor translate without permission or proper attribution. I give credit for the character Father Charlie Mayhew from the series "Grotesquerie" by Ryan Murphy. This is the only platform where I have published the story.

[niteskysx]

(A continuation from my last fic)

Stepbrother! Nicholas Chavez x Reader x Stepbrother! Cooper Koch

Your role in this family was… complicated. When your adoptive parents brought you into the family, they thought giving their boys a little sister would be a wonderful idea. A picture-perfect family, they said.

What they didn’t realize was that their sons were far from perfect.

At first, Nicholas seemed like the kind of older brother anyone would want— charming, protective, and confident. With the exception of some anger issues, of course.

He said he’d help you with boys. He’d give advice, tease you harmlessly, and make you smile. But as the both of you grew older, that teasing shifted into somewhat of a darker nature.

In the teaching and teasing, he would start making these odd requests and try to convince you the best he could.

“I want to try something new with my girlfriend, but I need to make sure I don’t screw it up with her, I- I really love her you know… Can I try it on you first? Just to see how it feels? Just this once?”

You hesitated first, of course, but you were just helping, right? You were family. It was all innocent, wasn’t it? Just a favor for your stepbrother.

The first time you gave in, you told yourself it was harmless. But once that line was crossed, it was like he’d broken a lock.

The requests kept getting bolder and things started escalating into more intense exchanges.

He’d pull you aside, or take you to his room, and say he needed your help again. That it was “important.”That he loved his girlfriend too much to risk losing her.

Nicholas was a person that could get angry very quickly. When things didn’t go his way, he would be frustrated or get mad quick and needed a way to blow off steam fast.

Eventually, he started using you as a stress-reliever.

Whenever Nicholas felt bored, frustrated, or just needed to “relax,” he’d call you into his room. He’d claim it was harmless but he needed your help to blow off steam.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin the only family you have, would you?” He would say.

It’s not like you wanted him to continue with what he was doing— but sometimes, just, sometimes, you found yourself craving it. Craving him. Like a classic horny virgin, just so desperately waiting for the next time he’d teach you something new. You hated yourself for it, for wanting him like this, especially knowing that with each time you allowed him closer, you were indirectly betraying the only family you had ever known. But in those moments, as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself. The minute he touched you, you melted— You couldn’t deny the way you looked forward to him, even as the guilt was suffocating you immensely.

Cooper, on the other hand, played the part of the sweet, caring brother. He didn’t seem to know the full extent of what went down between you and Nicholas, but you could tell he had an idea. He’d glance at you sometimes, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name— concern, guilt, maybe even jealousy. He’d ask if you were okay, with his angelic gentle tone that he has, but his questions only made you more anxious.

Even with Cooper, things didn’t feel entirely “brother-like.” His glances always lingered on you a moment too long, his touch lingering in ways that felt just a bit too intimate, like when his fingers brushed yours at the dinner table when you asked him to pass the bread. And that tension. That unspoken tension between the two of you that rises whenever you are left in a room together, alone.

You felt trapped by the both of them. Mentally, physically, emotionally….

The lines between right and wrong started to blur for you everyday and you couldn’t think right. You just kept sinking deeper and deeper into their control— intentionally or unintentionally.

You found yourself sitting close to Nicholas again— you could feel his fingers trail down your arm, his breath warm against your skin. You wanted to get away, you knew you had to get away, but you couldn’t… It was like he had you under some kind of unspoken spell that couldn’t be broken. He was leaning in, looking at your lips, about to do what you think he was about to do when—

The door flew open.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Hey—oh,” Cooper’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He froze in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

Nick jerked back, his jaw clenching as he turned to glare at his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cooper blinked, recovering quickly. “I was going to ask her if she wanted to watch a movie,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flickering between the two of you. “But I can see I interrupted something.”

“You think?” Nick snapped.

Your heart was racing a million miles an hour. “I—I was just heading to bed,” you stammered, trying to escape the situation.

Cooper didn’t budge from the doorway, he just kept glaring, eyes locked on Nick’s. “Maybe you should give her some space, Nicholas. You know, let her breathe for once.”

You didn’t expect Cooper to say that. At all.

You could feel how mad Nick was getting. This wasn’t good.

“Stay out of it, Coop. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re acting like a—” Cooper stopped himself, glancing at your innocent face before finishing. “Just… back off, okay?”

Nick took a step toward his brother.. “You don’t tell me what to do. Got it?”

“Someone has to,” Cooper shot back, his calm demeanor cracking. “She’s not your plaything, Nicholas.”

What was happening wasn’t good and you needed to figure out a way to stop this before things escalated. You quickly stepped between them before things could escalate.

“Stop it—both of you,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I don’t want any of this. I’m going to my room.”

You rushed out of there as soon as possible. You couldn’t take whatever “this” was. It was just too much for you to handle.

Nick watched you leave as you left his room, turning from frustrated to something softer. Sadder. But only for a brief moment before hardening his expression to bitter ‘ol Nicholas again. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, dropping into the chair beside his bed.

He shot a glance at Cooper, waving him off lazily.

“You can go now, too.”

Cooper gave Nick one last angry glance before he turned to leave.

As he stepped into the hallway, he could see that your door was slightly open and he peeked through that little space to see you sitting on the edge of your bed, holding yourself.

Hesitant at first, but he knocks lightly on your door and steps inside. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentler than ever. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “I’m fine. Thanks for… everything.”

He gave you a small smile. “Someone has to look out for you.”

Before you could respond, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “If you ever need anything, just… let me know, okay?”

You nodded again, not adding anything else. He turned and quietly closed the door behind him.

When you were left alone with your thoughts, you were trying to process everything that just happened. What did just happen? In fact, what HAS been happening? I mean— this is not like you at all! You’re a good girl, like mom and dad say. You have always been a good girl… Kissing your step brother? Nicholas—? Seriously? The boy who gets off on torturing and teasing his stepsister? He doesn’t even really like you! He just uses you— why are you STILL letting him get close to you like that and then let him treat you like trash the rest of the time? And what was that fight? Over YOU? No way. This all feels like a very, VERY bad dream that you need to wake up from.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

Just sleep it off… just… sleep… it… off.

Things will be normal tomorrow…. Right?

For @blackynsupremacy 🙊💋

[nightmare-niko]

Pretty When You Cry [Father Charlie Mayhew x reader]

pt. 2

Word Count: 1916

Warnings: manhandling, kinda munch! Charlie, one slap, mean! Dom Charlie, blasphemy (they fuck in the church😬)

A/N: not my gifs! I have the originals reblogged on my page😘 this was actually already being written and then I got an anon request for basically exactly what I was already writing!! Hope ya like it hehe 🙃 i also dont really ever write like this kind of smut so i hope i did good!!

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

You weren't a religious person by any means. But staying the night at your parents had you up early, trying to find the most church-appropriate outfit. of course, your parents failed to tell you that they were planning on bringing you along to church. Your skirt was a bit too short. But it is not like you had room to complain with such short notice!

You remember going to high school with Father Charlie— or as you knew him Charlie. The two of you didn't run with the same crowds-- but you knew each other.

Now, here you were. Paying no attention to the words coming from his mouth and all attention to how good he looked. Damn-- maybe you should have shot your shot years ago when he was a personal trainer.

As you watched him at the head of the room, you allowed your mind to wander.

One extremely long and boring sermon later, you stand awkwardly behind your parents as they talk to what Seems like every member of the church. God how you regret agreeing to come-- It's not like you knew anyone here- none of your friends went to church. But here you were, being judged by middle-aged churchgoers. How fun.

The sound of your name being called catches your attention.

You whip your head around to the noise, "Father Charlie!" The name is unnatural as it falls from your lips. You quickly look at your parents- too engrossed in a conversation. “It's been a while!" You awkwardly step closer to the man.

He hums, "It has been, hasn't it? The first time in the church as well.”

“Well, you know...” You gesture back to your parents.

"I'm assuming this wasn't on your schedule.” He looks you up and down, “Given your attire.”

You gasp sharply, heat rising to your face as you pathetically try to pull your skirt down. "I-uh,” you try to think of an excuse, "I didn't pack any pants..." You lie-- lying in a church is one thing but to the priest?

If Charlie sensed your lie he didn't comment on it. "Well, I hope you enjoyed today's sermon.”

"I did!" You lie again, a little too enthusiastically.

Charlie narrows his eyes at you, "You weren't paying attention, were you?" His voice is playful.

"No, I was not," You quickly confess.

He laughs, you have to fight to not stare shamefully at his beautiful face for too long. "That's odd— because when I looked at you, you looked very focused," He teases.

“I wasn't paying attention to your voice. Just your fa-" you stop in your tracks. Utterly petrified at the situation you have just found yourself in. His eyebrows raise in surprise at your slip-up. “I mean I didn't even know that you could see me in that crowd-- I-I- just figured that-”

“That every time we locked eyes it wasn't on purpose?” he finishes your thought.

You nod pathetically, your shoes suddenly extremely interesting.

Charlie takes a step towards you, the proximity making you look up at the man. Has he always been that tall? "I want you to go into my office and wait for me.” His voice is a seductive tone you have never heard him use before. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“But what about my parents?” you ask, voice just above a whisper.

“Dont worry about them,” he assures before walking away. Leaving you standing alone— stunned.

To say you were terrified was an understatement. Sure, you weren't in any danger-- at least you didn't think so. What exactly had you gotten yourself into? Here you sat, in a priest's office. Surrounded by biblical Imagery. And you were 99% Sure you were soaked through your cotton panties, you didn't care. No one but you was going to know... right?

Five minutes turned to ten. You sat anxiously in the chair across from Charlie's desk. A clock on the wall ticked away obnoxiously. You had figured when you walked in it would take him a while for him to return. how long should you wait? Has he forgotten that you were sitting in his office, impatiently waiting? You didn't dare to snoop, or even scroll on your phone. Charlie said to wait for him, and that's what you would do.

For thirty minutes you're alone in that office. you straighten your posture when you hear the clicks of Charlie’s boots nearing. The sound of the door opening makes you flinch pathetically. You don't dare turn around. Eyes glued on the desk in front of you.

Charlie is silent as he moves around behind you. Your pulse pounds in your throat at the anticipation.

“You seem nervous.” You tense at his voice, still refusing to turn around and face the man.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “I am nervous, Father.” You press your thighs together in an atempt to find some sort of relief to your throbbing center.

He groans quietly from behind you, “look at me.”

Like a magnet your head whips around to look at the man. His sharp gaze made your breath hitch. You felt hazy as he stepped towards you. Your eyes locked on his as he comes to stand right in front of you. Your breath quickens when he captures your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger.

Charlies predatory gaze on you deepens, his lips curling into a smirk, "you--" he rubs the lipstick on your mouth, smudging it. "Are such a pretty mess for me, darling.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, “I don't know what you mean, Father.”

He grips the sides of your face harshly, cheeks smushing together into a pout. “Showing up to my church dressed like a slut—” he spits, “shamlessly eyefucking me the whole time like you were the only one in the room.”

You whimper at his words— he was right of course. But that didn't stop your face from flushing in embarrassment.

“Now look at you. Slut. Sitting before me like a doe as if you didn’t wait in my office hoping I would come in here and fuck you like the whore that you are.”

You moan shamelessly when he lets go of your face, while your whole body was screaming at you to submit to the man before you. You could help but push his buttons just a little bit further.

“You know for a priest you sure do have a filthy mouth—” His eyes narrow on you as you speak. “im such a slut but here you are hard in your pants over a damn mini skirt.” If looks could kill, you’d surely be dead. You needed more.

You open your mouth to speak again. But before you could even get a sound out, Charlie strikes his large hand across your cheek. You moan again, “fuck!”

Wordlessly, he turns to the desk before you. You watch curiously as he haphazardly pushes the clutter on his desk onto the floor. Your hands tremble in anticipation as you watch him bound towards you. He effortlessly picks you up from the chair you sat on, as if a reflex you cross you’d ankles behind his back as his hands greedily grip your thighs and ass.

He gently places you on the recently cleared off desk. A stark contrast to the way he effortlessly hoisted you from your seat. You attempt to grind down in the wooden desk under you for some kind of stimulation, but Charlie’s grip stops you.

“So impatient,” he purrs. He captures your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. You whine at the loss of him, but you don’t have to worry for long as his hands greedily grasps at your skirt, tearing at your legs. He leaves you with one last opened mouth kiss as he begins to trail wet kisses down your neck.

He mumbles something you can’t quite hear. But you don’t really care when he sinks to his knees, his strong hands prying your legs open. He trails more kisses to your inner thigh all the way up to your core. He licks a stripe over your soaked through panties, your legs try to close but his hands are holding your thighs open. His eyes lock on yours as he pulls them down your legs, the speed agonizing as you whimper. In a second his lips are back on you, his wet kisses up your thighs driving you mad.

“Charlie,” You thread your hand through his hair as he bites and licks at your heat like a starved man.

He mumbles a quick “no,” as he pulls away from you. His chin slicked and shiny from you. The scene is pornographic, if you had a camera you’d take a picture. He fumbles with his belt buckle and throws it to the side, the metal clanking to the floor loudly. You shamelessly stare as he stands back up, towering over you again he gets close enough that you feel his breath on your face.

“Look at you,” he tuts. You lurch forward— pulling him into a greedy, filthy kiss. When he moans into your mouth it’s the most heavenly sound you’ve ever heard. Pushing you back into the desk, once again he’s muttering something, a prayer. You paw at his zipper and he lazily watches you has you pull out his angry cock.

“Please?” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes from sheer sexual frustration.

“Since you asked so nicely~” he steals a quick kiss before dragging his leaking tip through your folds.

He pushes into you fully in one smooth motion. Your back arches up off of the desk, wood painfully digging into your spine. You didn’t care— all you cared about was him.

Fast sharp deep thrusts have you screaming as the sounds of skin ring throughout the office. You curse- throwing your arms over your head. Charlie’s mouth gaping while he groans, pressing and thrusting himself into you.

"Just, like that, oh.. god." You wail as he slams himself into your g spot repeatedly.

Charlie greedily paws at your clothed breasts as his hips slap into yours. You clench around him— you can already feel your orgasm building from the rough pace set. Charlie’s hips stutter from your action and you clench again. A low groan leaves his beautifully shaped lips as he digs his fingers into your hips.

You moan— you try to form words but Charlie feels so good inside of you that your brain feels like mush. He seems to be able to tell your close however by the way his thumb reaches down to rub sloppy circles onto your clit.

Your vision turns white as you come undone. Your nails dig into the desk below you as Charlie chases his own release. He leans down, pressing kisses into your cheeks and necks, unlike the kisses before; these are gentle and caring. You hiss when he pulls out of you, missing the feeling of him inside you immediately.

“How much convincing will it take for you to come to next weeks service?” He breathily laughs against the side of your face.

“If it’s gonna end like this again— none at all.”

♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

[bushwskq]

Father Charlie Mayhew x witch!reader

cw: 18+

PART 1

PART 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So what should I say? Well this is my first fanfic on Tumblr and English is not my first language. Thanks Google Translate. This one-shot came from a girl in great need of Nicholas Chavez, I kindly ask that you please forgive the mistakes. As soon as I can I will write the second part with more about Father Charlie, this is just the introduction...

I wrote it listening to Tear You Apart and Seven Wonders

Thank you for your attention!

You thought you had everything under control when you moved to this small town. Away from family or acquaintances that you had no desire to see again with a comfortable home decorated in your own special way. You were given the title of exotic by the residents of the place, they didn't seem like they would throw you into the fire like the witches of Salem but you knew that some were afraid of you even if you didn't show magic in public.

Your always black clothes didn't go unnoticed although no one ever said anything directly to you, you wore extravagant necklaces from time to time but what you kept around your neck was often a pentagram and a cross that reflected every movement you made. Walking calmly with a lit cigarette between your fingers, you observed the crowd of people entering the city's main church. You weren't able to determine which audience that place attracted because they ranged from children to old women marked by time.

For a moment you considered going into the crowd, it had been so long since you stepped foot in a Catholic place and memories of your childhood flashed through your mind. You weren't going home anytime soon, there was nothing stopping you from getting in other than your mind. You knew that sermons about sin wouldn't make you change your beliefs, you found help by practicing witchcraft (or what people called the practices you practiced) your relationship with magic was something different from anything you knew and you felt welcomed worshiping their own gods.

You remembered your first mentor, she taught you the basis of everything you know, helping you deal with your complicated feelings during this process. Respect although resentment about the religions that condemned your existence was always present in you. Taking a deep breath while looking around, you crossed the street towards the church without thinking. You stubbed out your cigarette on the sidewalk then took a deep breath until you walked up the stairs.

The church was big, the first thing you thought of was the large tithe they earned on the faithful. You looked for a pew, sitting down at the end then a few minutes later the mass started, it was everything the way you remembered it. Except for one thing.

The priest was too handsome to be a priest, you thought, the man must have been a few years older than you. His hair was perfectly combed back to highlight his chiseled face, his jaw clenched as he waited to speak. You quickly realized that the young women didn't come just because of the Lord's word. The mass continued while the pentagram on your chest weighed as if saying you were in the wrong place, the priest's firm voice walked through the church with its hoarse timbre. You would definitely be lying if you said you weren't attracted to the man.

“What’s his name?” You shyly asked a nun sitting in the front seat. “Fa-father Charlie Mayhew.” The woman responded with a small smile before turning her attention to the lectern. You thanked him politely as you stared at the man, you knew his name now. Father Charlie Mayhew You recited in your mind as the mass continued.

You couldn't take your eyes off that pretty face, in disbelief that someone so young had chosen this vocation. You didn't hear anything until he spoke then it stopped again like a cycle, even with the clothes on you could tell that his body was defined as the outline of his muscles could still be seen. Then he looked at you, you thought about avoiding it but it was too late. Caught like a naughty child doing something he shouldn't, you kept looking until he looked away. You smiled internally.

The hours passed towards the end of the celebration, many people headed towards the exit but not you. Never going with the flow of things you began to explore the church, observing the colorful stained glass windows and the pattern of lit candles. In your peripheral vision you saw Father Charlie talking to a couple, his voice was relaxed although he still maintained his posture.

You stopped at another stained glass window, your eyes attentive to the details. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Father Charlie asked standing next to you, you could smell him and it almost made you fall over. “The church is not used to a new face.” He said, his clear voice leaving you quiet for a moment before he began “I recently moved to the city, Father. In fact, this is the first church I’ve been to in a long time.” His voice doesn't show shame like other people do when they talk to Charlie.

Sometimes intimidated by the man's posture or beauty.“I'm glad to hear that.” you could see the sincerity in his words although he tried to hide something. “Know that the church is open to welcome you, dear.” Charlie approached, turning his face to him: “God has ways of rescuing his lost children to salvation. No matter what circumstance.”

His gaze dropped to your chest where the pentagram rested somewhat hidden by your clothes. His heavy hand touched the necklace with a little force. “The confessional is open on Wednesdays. If you are interested, I will be waiting for you.” He left without looking back, leaving you uneasy as you watched him.

[fear-is-truth]

charlie mayhew

one shots

the darker the fruit, the sweeter

in nomine peccati

only the ones that want to be saved

contrition

sacrificial angel, dirty slut with needs

you got a fetish for my love

blurbs

giving him head

scars

cockwarming

thou shalt not steal

finger sucking (sub!charlie mayhew)

dr!mayhew x nurse!reader

nympho!gf

worship

angel baby, angel (fluff)

object (crucifix) insertion

crawling back to you (angst?)

tit obsessed charlie

hc

dr mayhew — relationship headcanons

father charlie — relationship headcanons

playlist

pov: in love with father charlie mayhew

nicholas chavez masterlist

[venus-haze]

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if you’ve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like it🤭 Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.

You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels weren’t forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.

Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julie’s Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.

For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.

“Why did Merritt say she couldn’t make it, again?” Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar you’d inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people you’d gone to high school with and definitely didn’t want to see again.

You shrugged. “I texted her earlier, and she said she couldn’t make it, something came up.”

“It sucks she doesn’t hang out anymore,” Julie said. “Did we do something?”

“I mean, her dad’s in a coma, and her mom’s working all the time with those gross murders going on,” Lisa said. “She’s probably the only one keeping things together at home.”

The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.

“I’m gonna stop by sometime this week. It’s been way too long since any of us have seen her,” you resolved.

Lisa and Julie agreed, though you weren’t sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured you’d be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.

Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.”

“We can go with you,” Julie said.

You shook your head. “Don’t end your night early because of me.”

“Alright, text us when you get home.”

When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.

“Hey Mer, it’s me. We missed you tonight!” You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. “Look, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. It’s not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyond—“ A catcall interrupted your rambling. “Look, just call me or something, at least let me know you’re alright? Bye, babe.”

The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover you’d inevitably have in the morning. 

Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didn’t pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.

“Hey, nice costume,” you told him.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume.”

You laughed. “Right.” Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. “You know it’s a shame we didn’t run into each other earlier tonight, we probably could’ve won a couples contest or something.”

He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasn’t him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.

You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.

He handed you the Gatorade you’d been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.

You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you plan on driving home,” he said.

You shook your head. “I came out here with my friends."

"And they just left you like this? Alone?"

"I told them I'd get an Uber.”

“They'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.”

Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasn’t the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.

He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin. 

Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor. 

“Oh my god, are you actually a priest?” you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.

“I told you it wasn’t a costume.”

“Shit.”

“Father Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you don’t believe me.” He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadn’t told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes. 

Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidity—his was more modern, you supposed.

“Have you heard about those murders around town?” you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.

“Yes, our parish’s publication has been reporting on it,” he said. “I'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.”

You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. “Lois is working with a nun?”

“You know detective Tryon?”

“She’s my best friend’s mom,” you said. “I went to her house all the time growing up.”

“You must know her pretty well, then.”

“Yeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,” you said. “Still, I can’t imagine…whoever’s behind it must be depraved. What he’s doing—it’s not even human, it’s animal.”

“He?”

“I don’t think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.”

“You might be right about that,” he said solemnly.

You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up. 

Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.

Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldn’t wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.

“Thanks, Father Charlie,” you said. “I owe you one.”

“Actually, mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked.

You shook your head. “‘Course not. Come on up.”

Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.

You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.

“Just letting my friends know I got home safe,” you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.

You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. “The bathroom’s through the kitchen, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.

You never got a chance to.

“So, why this costume?” he asked, startling you.

You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Oh, um—I thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Well, nuns aren’t supposed to have sex, and this costume is—”

“Pornographic," he said. "I mean, it’s something you get fucked in.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.

“Chastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and you—” he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, “you mock it.”

You knew you should’ve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“You will be. Get on your knees.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Don’t be crude. This is about repentance.”

The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.

"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.

You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.

The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.

“Simply praying won’t do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."

Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.

"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.

You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.

He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.

Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.

"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."

Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.

He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sin…why else would you have put this costume on tonight?"

Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.

“Depraved, animal, barbaric,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think of me?”

You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. “No—no, you can’t be—”

“I was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,” he mused, “I just can’t pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,” he whispered.

“No—Father, please don’t—”

[hoffmansgirl]

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙎, 𝙏𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝘿 & 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙒𝙀𝘿 ⎯ father charlie mayhew

⠀⎯⎯⎯ read part one! .. 𝓶illion 𝓭ollar 𝓶an

₊˚⊹౨ৎ 𝓐'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: here it is! finally! i know a lot of people waited for this, so i hope you enjoy. please read the warnings before reading ⎯ this is dirtyyyy as hell. 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. gore · murder · descriptive mentions of crimes & killing · blood(play). like, so much blood · masochism · blasphemy · charlie & reader refer to him as "god" · knife play · blood kink · oral (m!receiving + slight f!receiving) · finger sucking · unprotected piv · choking/breath play · cum eating · a cliffhanger at the end (: 𝘄𝗰. 5299

"Does it matter what tool do we use?", you asked inquisitively, running your fingertips over the cold surface of the chopping knife, as if you were trying to memorise every detail of it. You tilted your head slightly, and Charlie hummed, his hands resting on either side of you as he pressed his chest against your back. His chin rested on the top of your head — he took a deep breath, savouring the moment of silence, the warmness of your body against his; your smell invaded his senses, making his lips curve into a smile.

"This time — no", Charlie retorted, lifting his hand to rest it on top of yours. "But you still have to think this through. You're my smart girl, aren't you?", he run his fingers over the blunt side of the tool, and you nodded vigorously, making the Priest's heart swell with pride. "Tell me. Which one would you choose?".

You nibbled on your bottom lip, your gaze focusing on the tools in front of you.

"Easily, a gun. I would simply shot them in the head", you hesitated, turning towards Charlie, whose chocolate-like eyes were now flickering with adoration. He took a strand of your perfectly curled hair and twirled it around his pointer finger, humming appreciatively, encouraging you to continue. "They will be dead within seconds. No need to massacre their bodies before death. Then, we can use a saw to cut off their limbs. It should cut through the bones pretty easily — at least, that's what you said", you added, the corners of your mouth turning up as you battled your eyelashes at Charlie. He tugged on the strand of hair before cupping your cheek, and you snuggled into his palm, warmness spreading across your body.

"Indeed, love. You've been listening very carefully, learning so quick. Such a good little Angel", he cooed, making your heart flutter in your chest. "Let's get to work then, shall we?".

You nodded in response, and Charlie sent you a filthy, open-mouthed smirk, before leaning down to kiss you just as filthily. Your body responded to his naturally, melting into his warm embrace, your hands resting on his black shirt-covered chest, wishing nothing more but to see his body underneath. But it had to wait, and you knew it — it was hard to control the tingling sensation between your thighs as Charlie's lips brushed against you with such vigor and need, though. Your teeth clicked together as Charlie's hand tangled in your hair, causing a soft whimper to leave your mouth, your tongue rolling over his own messily. "Mmm, later", the priest mumbled lowly, pulling away just slightly — his swollen, wet lips brushed against yours as you stood there, breathing each others air, savouring the moment. The cold air of the basement hit your skin, and you trembled, your eyes snapping open to meet Charlie's gaze.

"Yes. Let's just... get it over with", you whispered softly, and he took a step back, nodding his head towards the counter behind you. You understood what he wanted — you blindly reached for the gun laying on the very edge of the table, reloading it, your every movement precise and slow. Charlie intertwined your fingers together, sending you a smile.

You were convinced everything would be fine as long as the two of you were together.

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand", Charlie's soothing voice reached your ears, filling the silence like the most beautiful song. You hanged your head, closing your eyes for a second, feeling his presence behind you; his cautious eyes following every movement of your steady hands. You passed the needle through the skin of a sex worker's arm, connecting it to torso of another's. You hummed softly as your knees dig into the cold, marble floor —yet, somehow, you loved the pain. You were almost finished sewing the body parts together under Charlie's gaze, as he gave you tips every now and then. You appreciated his work, appreciated how he let you be a part of his plan, appreciated how patient and helpful he was when it came to you and only you.

"I'm so thankful", you mumbled, lifting your eyes just for a second, meeting the Priest's gaze, before focusing on the needle still in your hand. A smile made its way onto your face, covered by a sheer, lacy, black veil, and Charlie's breath hitched at your beauty.

His greedy eyes roamed over your form, kneeling on the floor. You were wearing a long dress that matched the veil gracefully resting on your head.

Your hair fell on your back in cascades, silky and soft, glimmering in the dim, flickering lighting. Your long, fluttering lashes casted long shadows on your cheeks, and your lips were slightly parted as you focused on your task.

Charlie couldn't help the appreciative hum that left his mouth as he circled you, careful not to step on any of the blood pools or the poor people's body parts. "I mean it", your voice came out low and steady as you — yet again — stole him a quick glance. The left corner of your mouth quirked up as you finally finished, putting the needle and string down, admiring your and Charlie's — mostly his — masterpiece with tilted head. "Thank you for letting me help you. Thank you for showing me the world I haven't ever seen before. Thank you for loving me", you muttered slowly, and Charlie stopped in his tracks, now standing right in front of you. You lifted your gaze as his tall form towered over you — his eyes filled with adoration, pride, and the all familiar neediness.

"You make me so proud everyday", he spoke lowly, holding out his hand for you to grab. You slowly got up from your kneeling position, and he pulled you into his warm embrace, never letting go of your bloody hand — he lifted it to his mouth, pressing soft kisses on the back of your hand, humming at the metallic taste invading his senses. Your breath hitched as his lips met your fingers, the fresh blood now covering his mouth — the all familiar sight so erotic, you couldn't help but shudder, tapping two of your fingers against his lower lip delicately. Charlie obeyed, as he always did, taking them into his mouth without hesitation, his tongue lapping at the crimson liquid greedily. A quiet whine left his mouth as his lips closed around your digits, sucking them harshly, his hands now roaming over your lower back. His eyes met yours, dark and dangerous, even when you were the one stuffing his mouth with your fingers.

You pushed them further into his mouth before pulling out, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. There was no rush in the way you moved, not even when he walked you back to press you against the wall, not when he pushed himself inside of you so hard it almost hurt — yet you loved every second of the pain. You always did with Charlie.

A breathless praises escaped his mouth as he fucked into you nice and deep, and for a moment, it was just the two of you — in the quietness of the abandoned Church, the corpses on the floor long forgotten as you turned into a babbling mess, surrounded by his powerful embrace. It made you feel powerful, too, as the two of you connected over and over again, a rush of adrenaline running down your spine, fireworks erupting in your stomach as you watched him with hooded eyes.

"I love you. I love you so much", Charlie panted, pressing his forehead against yours as he painted your walls white, holding on to you as if you were going to disappear any second now. You could only smile, brushing your fingers over his cheek, the softness of his skin perfectly matching the delicacy of his soul.

You loved watching Charlie hold his usual evening masses. Not only did he look effortlessly beautiful, but his words — always a little bit too personal and specific — touched your soul. You sat in the darkest corner, your hands folded in prayer as you savoured the moment, trying so hard to focus on his sermon — but everything about him was way too mesmerising. From his perfectly combed hair, to his glimmering eyes, to the way his lips moved as he spoke. The way his long eyelashes casted soft shadows on his cheeks, or the way his Adam's apple moved as he spoke. Your gaze travelled lower — your wide eyes following the way his fingers tightened around the platform as he read the Bible verses to the parishioners.

Your cheeks grew warm, and, as if he could sense your sudden fluster, his eyes scanned over the crowd of people, only to settle on you. Charlie knew he couldn't do much from his spot on the platform, but he felt powerful under your gaze — full of adoration and pride. You bit your lip, winking at him, and he gripped the platform tightly, his voice never shuddering. He sent you a last, lingering gaze before focusing on his work, completely — yet a silent promise of what was about to come lingered in the air between you.

Soon after, he said his goodbyes to the parishioners, turning away to snuff out the candles around the altar. You stayed in your seat, looking for the right moment to approach him as people began to leave. You got up, slowly and deliberately, smoothing out the wrinkles on your black dress, beginning to walk towards him. You knew he could feel your presence when you saw his shoulders relax, as the last person left the church, leaving the two of you alone.

"The sermon was beautiful", you whispered, and Charlie chuckled under his breath, turning towards you. His hands were on you in an instant, warm and comforting on your hips.

"Come on now, Angel", he smirked, tilting his head before leaning down to brush his lips against yours. "You were rather absent. Too busy eye-fucking me to focus on anything else, really".

You grinned, letting your hands trace the outline of his muscles through the thick material of the cassock he was wearing. "Mmm. Maybe. You just look so good. Couldn't help myself", you breathed out, closing your eyes before closing the remaining distance between you and kissing him.

Charlie responded immediately, soft groan leaving his mouth at the taste of you — a taste he missed so much. He pulled you closer, letting you feel his strong body against yours, the growing bulge in his pants brushing against your stomach. You smirked into the kiss, biting his bottom lip with enough force to draw blood. You lapped at the small wound greedily, moaning at the taste — you were convinced nothing could ever taste as good as him. You let Charlie's tongue tangle with your own, allowing him to taste his own blood. His soft groans, along with your occasional whines echoed through the air, your hands now travelling up his back to tangle in his hair.

"Mmm, I missed you", you managed to say between kisses, pushing him back blindly until he fell onto his chair — the very one he sat in during masses. Charlie took his cassock off hurriedly, before grabbing you by your thighs, forcing you to straddle his lap. He wasted no time as he latched his lips on your neck, scraping his teeth against the delicate skin before soothing the sting with his tongue. Your head fell back — your breathless moans filled the air, punctuated by the wet sounds of Charlie's mouth against your skin.

"Every inch of you is made for worship. You're perfect", he muttered, pressing kisses along your jawline as he clutched the lacy material of your dress in his hands. "You're a Goddess. A Divine Being. Made for me, and only me".

Your eyes fluttered shut at his words, and you let them settle in the silence between the two of you — your breathing became heavy as Charlie's lips brushed against your neck, his fingers tracing shapes on your thighs. The cross on the wall behind you caught your attention, but in that moment, there was no Jesus, no shame, no fear; all you could feel was Charlie and the power emanating from him.

"You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water", your melodic, satin like voice filled the silence in Charlie's chamber as he washed the remains of blood from his face with the Holy Water. He swore he could almost feel the burning sensation in the places that the Water reached — as if God was punishing him for his sins. In that moment it didn't matter, though, not when your words reached his ears. He hummed appreciatively, turning towards your kneeling form.

"Very good. Worship Your God with not only words, but also actions". You nodded slowly as he now stood in front of you, with nothing but a white towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Your mouth began to salivate as you watched him, tall and powerful above you, his gaze both demanding and dangerous. Unhesitatingly, you reached for his towel, tugging it down in one, swift movement. Your breath hitched as his cock stood proudly right in front of your face, waiting to be taken care of.

"So pretty", you whispered softly, not sure of he'd even be able to hear — yet he did. He looked down at you with authority, small smile making its way on his lips before he reached down to tug on your hair, clearly inpatient. You fixed your posture, leaning forward, folding your hands, as Charlie slowly began to stroke his cock with his free hand.

A soft moan left his mouth at the contact, as he watched you with hooded eyes; one of his black shirts dangling from your figure, rolled up on your silky thighs. Charlie caught a sneak peek of your collarbones and neck as you hanged your head.

"He is the one you praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes", he panted lowly, moving his hand over his cock teasingly slow, as he held your hair tightly. Your lashes fluttered as you gazed up at him — the power he had over you in the moment only spurred him on further. "Open up. Wide", he instructed, tugging on your hair, forcing you to lift your head. You obeyed —your tongue lolling out of your mouth, eyes clouded with lust as you looked up for his approval.

There was no rush in his movements as he slowly positioned his leaking cock in front of your awaiting mouth, slapping the tip against your tongue. You hummed as the salty taste of his pre-cum invaded your senses, the smell of Charlie — wood, a strong cologne and a hint of incense — lingering in the air, making the moment even more intimate.

"Just like that, Angel", he smirked widely, his eyes not once leaving yours as he slowly thrusted into your mouth. "Worship your God".

You hollowed your cheeks around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip just like he knew he liked it. Charlie hissed through clenched teeth, tangling his hand in your hair, holding you in place as his hips began to snap into your mouth with force. Your eyes began to water as his tip bruised the back of your throat, your still folded hands trembling as you struggled to breathe.

"You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth, on your knees — praying for me", he gasped, and you let out a moan, causing every muscle in his body to clench. He continued to use your mouth, as you slurped down on his cock, saliva mixed with his pre-cum dripping from the sides of your mouth — you weren't afraid of being messy, spurred by the groans leaving his mouth every time your wet, inviting mouth took all of his length in.

Charlie's thumb pressed against your forehead, as he continued to use your mouth, deaf to the desperate moans and gags leaving you. He drew a sign of the cross on your skin, causing a tingling sensation to spread all over your body. You doubled your efforts on his dick, your tongue lapping the pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. Charlie whined and pushed you all the way down, forcing his length to rest deep in your throat — your hands flew to his thighs for balance, tears running down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe.

"A holy seed in your mouth, Angel", Charlie panted, his head falling back as he felt your throat convulse around him. "Take me. Take all of me in your pretty little throat — let me take over your body and soul".

All you could do was moan as his hips thrusted against your face one, two, three more times — before he pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to his pretty, flushed tip. You sticked out your tongue while your hands moved up to close around his cock, jerking him off swiftly.

A few seconds and strokes of your hands later, and the hot spurts of his cum landed on your awaiting tongue, chin and cheeks, his hand on your head tightening as he struggled to stay upright.

"Oh my— Yes, fuck", he grunted desperately, and you smirked, closing your mouth around his tip to swallow every single drop he offered you.

You pulled away a while later, licking your lips, savouring the taste of his godly essence on your tongue. Charlie's chest was heaving with uneven breaths as he pulled you up by your shoulders. Your legs were shaking terribly, sore from the endless kneeling, but the burn in your lower abdomen was stronger than any pain.

"You're a real child of God", Charlie held both of your hands in his as he led you to his bed. Your knees buckled when they hit the bed frame, and you fell back against the sheets, moving up until your head met the pillow. Your hair was scattered around your head like a halo, and Charlie's breath hitched as he stood on the foot of the bed, in all his glory — his cock stood proud in the air, not yet fully satisfied.

You watched with a smile as he moved to grab a knife from his drawer. The bed creaked under Charlie's weight as he slowly moved to tower over you. His hand slid up your chest, slowly and teasingly, before the blunt side of the knife pressed against your — his — shirt-covered collarbone.

The thrill of being at his mercy — even though you knew he wouldn't hurt you — was electrifying, and you couldn't help the gasp that left your mouth at the sensation. Charlie hummed a few lines of a hymn, as his other hand grasped your thigh, his fingers tracing soft circles onto your skin. The blade moved against your chest, and he pressed it in harder, cutting through the black fabric.

"So pure... so special", he whispered, voice filled with adoration as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly. You gasped as the cold air hit your hot skin, when Charlie slowly slid the shirt off your shoulders. Your boobs were now fully exposed to him, and he couldn't help a groan that left his mouth at the sight, his cock pressing between your bodies as he leaned down to brush his lips against the fading "C" on your sternum, that he carved out with his knife a few weeks ago. He knew it'd leave a scar, but that was his purpose — he wanted you to be marked as his for life. He let his tongue trace over the letter, lapping at your skin as if he was starved.

"Therefore, I urge you, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God — this is your true and proper worship", he mumbled, and your back arched off the bed as his mouth closed around your nipple, biting the sensitive bud softly, at which you whined. You tugged on the white sheets with force as he sucked, licked and lapped on your skin, breathless sounds leaving your mouth when the cold blade pressed against your skin yet again.

"Charlie— please", you managed to let out through gritted teeth, and he chuckled lowly — the sound vibrating against your skin, making you shiver.

You were growing impatient as Charlie finally let go of your nipple, his hand closing around your neck as he looked you up and down. "I need you so bad. I don’t want to wait". Your words came out strangled, as you struggled to breathe — due to his thumb now pressing against your pulse point with force.

"Greed is a sin", he tutted, before pressing the sharp edge of the knife into the skin of your hip. Blood was pouring from the little wound as he continued to move the blade down, creating a masterpiece of his own on your skin. He groaned when your blood streamed down your side, covering the sheets under you. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled against him, the pain and pleasure of being so obviously marked by him making you lightheaded.

Relief washed over your body when he was finished, leaving you trembling and crying — yet still, your sick mind was enjoying every second of it.

"Mine", Charlie groaned, before throwing the knife onto the bed and moving down your body to lap at your wounds. He wasn't afraid of being messy with you as he took a deep breath, savouring the smell of you, his tongue cleaning up the mess that he had made. The sting made your body twitch, as his hand left your throat, instead moving down your body to tug at the waistband of your panties. Your hips rose off the mattress, allowing him to do whatever he pleased — and so he did, taking your lace thong off greedily, his tongue still working against your crimson covered skin.

You couldn't take it no more — not when the pressure between your thighs became too much, the tension begging to be taken care of. With all the strength you had left, you tugged on his hair, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. You didn't mind the taste of your own blood on your tongue, moaning into his mouth, as Charlie's hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open when they threatened to close around his hips.

Your blood was smeared all over yours and Charlie's lips, chins and cheeks as you shared a filthy, open mouthed kiss, your tongues rolling over each other. Your hands pressed against his chest, nails digging into his skin as you felt his cock press against your clit. A groan left his mouth when you grinded your hips up, causing his tip to brush against your wet folds.

"God, please— I need your cock, I need it so bad, Charlie", you mumbled, sucking his lower lip into your mouth lewdly. He flipped the two of you over, wasting no time before positioning his cock on your entrance, and you sink down on him with an almost pornographic moan.

Your head tipped back as you grinded down against him, his hands closing on your waist in a bruising grasp. He panted lowly, eyes falling closed as he felt the warmness and wetness of your cunt squeezing him with force.

"Fuck, yeah", Charlie cried out, and you smirked, your eyes half-closed as you watched him tremble beneath you. You reached out for the knife that was long forgotten by him, pressing the flat side against his stomach, watching as his eyes widened.

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being", you chanted, at which a desperate groan left his mouth, urging you on further. You pressed the knife against his sternum, cutting through his skin as if it was paper. You carved out big cross on his skin as you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

"Amen", you whispered, and Charlie'a bottom lip trembled in pain as your fingers digged into the wound, coating your fingers in his blood. You put them in your mouth, moaning obscenely as Charlie's lips began to piston upwards, his tip hitting your cervix every time he bottomed out. Your tongue swirled around your digits, your eyes rolling back into your head at the metallic taste of Charlie's blood coating your tongue.

"You taste so good, my God", you groaned as your fingers left your mouth, and you coated them with yet another layer of the crimson liquid, before tapping them on his bottom lip. He obeyed, digging his fingers into the plush flesh of your thighs, as you pushed your bloody fingers deep into his mouth. He whined pathetically, the movements of his hips slowing as he savoured the taste of himself. You took the lead, watching as his eyes fluttered shut at the invasion in his mouth, your blood covering the lower part of his face — the sight so erotic it made you tremble and grind against him harder.

"Oh, shit— my Goodness", he cried out around your digits, and you chuckled, pulling them out of his mouth, instead putting both of your hands on both sides of him for balance, as you bounced up and down on his thick cock. It felt like he was tearing you apart with how deep he was, incoherent curses leaving your mouth as your hair fell down your sweaty, bloody face. You licked a stripe up his chest, tracing the bloody cross with your tongue, moaning at the taste. Charlie hissed, pushing your head down, urging you not to stop, his hips snapping up to meet yours; his hands on your ass, forcing you to bounce harder.

"Every single piece of you is made for sin", Charlie groaned, spanking your backside once, twice, thrice, until you couldn't breathe. Tears blurred your vision at the pain, but you could just grind harder, the friction of his lower stomach against your clit making you see stars. "You're so filthy. Like a fucking devil", he snarled, and you arched your back as his flat palm landed on your ass cheek yet again.

"Charlie, I'm— I'm gonna cum", you cried out, and he nodded, pulling you flush against his chest, lifting your hips just a little higher in the air — causing his cock to hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

Your hand closed around Charlie's throat, and he groaned appreciatively when you squeezed, your thumb brushing against the vein on the side of his neck. His cock twitched when he watched you, your lips brushing against his just slightly as you moaned for him — the look of pure pleasure on your face was almost too much for him to handle.

"Fuck, yes— choke me— choke me, just like that", he panted, and you felt his cock twitch inside you.

"Cum with me", you begged, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. Your blood mixed as your tongues swirled together, and you swallowed his breathless moans as he neared his peak.

Charlie's thrusts became sloppy as he lost his rhythm, and as he hit that particular spot in you, you were seeing stars, coming all over him. Your cunt convulsed around his cock, squeezing him so tightly it became hard for him to move as you screamed his name, the hand around his throat tightening. Your orgasm triggered his own. He was grunting profanities under his breath as ropes of his cum filled your womb, causing aftershocks to run down your core.

Charlie flipped you on your back, kissing down your body before reaching your messy, puffy pussy. His cum was leaking out of your spent hole, and his cock twitched yet again at the sight — this time, everything was about you, though. He lowered his head to swirl his tongue against your clit, before lapping up the remains of your mixed releases. He groaned at the taste, and you whined, your legs closing around his head as he devoured you as if you were the last meal he was going to have.

He licked the last, teasing stripe up to your clit before he pulled away, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He kissed the area around the wounds on your stomach before kissing you, letting you taste his and yours release on your tongue.

He quickly deepened the kiss, not yet satisfied — his cock pressed against your stomach, at which you moaned, letting him explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

It was before you heard a soft knock on the door — and whoever was on the other side, didn't wait for a response before barging into the room. Your eyes widened and Charlie pulled away quickly, turning towards the door with an expression you haven't quite seen on him yet — fear. His eyes widened with horror as he saw Sister Megan, holding an article in her hand, her mouth slightly agape at the sight of you, the most devout parishioner, in her favourite Priest's bed — both of you naked and covered in blood. A small smile made its way onto your face as you watched her stumble across the doorway, mumbling a quick "I'm sorry", before disappearing.

"Fuck!", Charlie screamed, and you run your hands over his back, trying to calm him down — as you already had a plan. "I'm dead. I am fucking dead!", he groaned, getting up from the bed, panic clearly visible on his face, his heart racing in his chest.

"Baby, calm down! Just— listen for a moment!", you shouted, shaking his shoulders in order to get him to pay attention. "She's not gonna tell anyone. I promise", your voice grew louder as he began to talk over you. He relaxed slightly at your unbothered expression — he knew you would never lie to him, and you had this incredible ability to calm him down even in the most stressful moments.

"We need to get rid of her", he said, at which you smirked, running your hands over his chest softly.

"Exactly what I'm thinking. But", you chimed, standing on your top toes to kiss him, before continuing. "It can wait. Just trust me. And... we still have some unfinished business to take care of". You looked down on his erect shaft, running your hands down his abs to wrap your hand around him. Charlie groaned, his head tilted back and teeth biting on his bottom lip. You smiled as you felt his heartbeat against your other hand, the connection between you two only getting stronger, better — more powerful.

It was a dangerous game you were playing, but as Charlie pulled you back onto the bed, capturing your lips in a kiss, you had no doubts about the future you and Charlie have ahead of you.

But firstly, you had to get rid of the obstacles — and kill Megan Duvall.

❝ hoffmansgirl © 2024 | do not copy, translate, recreate or plagiarise my content. 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗭 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ❞

tags (click here to be added): @darlingnikkisixx @titsout4nicholas @brlwla @blackynsupremacy @mrs-riddlexo @essentialwriter @nicholaschavezslut69 @niteskysx @emluvsuxo @nicholaslut @greengoblinswifey @sin-deciric

[erajunex]

The House of Sin. (masterlist)

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: Father Charlie Mayhew x priestshousekeeper!reader

Summary: Your very religious family decides to preserve you from the evil of the world by entrusting you to Father Charlie as his housekeeper. You’re welcome in the House of Sin.

TW: NSFW. SMUT. blasphemy; mentions and references to catholic themes (some of them are probably inaccurate sorry); reader is very religious; virgin!reader; virginity loss; masturbation; pain kink; blood kink (if you squint); graphic description of self-inflicted flagellation; oral sex (f and m receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it); sex in a church; fingering; size kink; choking; hair pulling; fingers sucking; praise kink; breeding kink; use of pet names; swearing.

(each part can be read as a stand-alone)

*= smut.

part 1*- the night when everything started.

(next parts to be published…)

[winxanity-ii]

DAMNED DEVOTION [3/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( m. receiving oral/handjob; fem. receiving oral; p in v; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; breeding kink; degradation/praise kink; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 5.4k a/n: ahhh, i can't believe i finally finished the final part to this little 'devotion' piece. to thank you all for following along with this series i may have gone a little filthy 😅 also, don't know if you guys care to know, but it's my twin (@k-nayee) and i's 20th birthday today, wheeewwww 🎉🥳! i'll see you all in the next update, and don't be afraid to shoot an ask/request or check out my other works! this is a continuation of my previous one-shotS, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍' and '𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read those yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….

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

It was a bright afternoon, the sun hanging high in the sky, its rays filtering through the branches of the old oak tree that stood at the edge of the courtyard. The air smelled fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant murmur of conversation.

A group of young nuns-in-training, dressed in their modest habits, sat on the grass, their voices soft with laughter. You were among them, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, your Bible open in your lap, a pencil in your hand as you made notes from the earlier service.

The warmth of the sun on your skin made you feel content, almost peaceful, and you were momentarily lost in thought, the words on the page blurring slightly as your mind wandered.

"Sister ____!" a voice called, breaking through your concentration.

You looked up, startled, to see one of the younger nuns smiling at you, her eyes bright with curiosity. She had a round face, still clinging to the softness of her youth, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Her name was Sister Olive, and she was always one of the more talkative ones, her energy infectious among the group.

"Yes?" you replied, giving her a gentle smile. The group of nuns-in-training giggled amongst themselves, their eyes flickering between you and something—or rather someone—further down the courtyard path.

You followed their gaze and saw Father Charlie walking alongside another priest, his expression focused, his hands clasped behind his back.

The sun seemed to catch on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the soft waves of his hair. He looked every bit the holy man, yet there was an undeniable handsomeness to him, something that drew eyes wherever he went.

Sister Olive leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sister ____, does Father Charlie have a wife?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, confused by the question. "Pardon?" you asked, blinking as you looked back at her.

The group broke into another fit of giggles, Sister Olive glancing towards Father Charlie again before continuing. "I heard that priests can be married if they were married before being ordained..." she trailed off, her tone curious, her gaze turning back to you. "I just wondered if Father Charlie was ever married. He seems like he could be, doesn't he?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, Sister Olive, he isn't married," you answered, your tone soft but firm.

The young nuns exchanged glances, and another wave of giggles spread through the group, their laughter light and full of the innocence of youth.

Sister Olive sighed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, I thought so. He's too serious to have a wife, don't you think? But still... he's quite handsome."

You swallowed, glancing back towards Father Charlie, who was now nearing the edge of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for something—or someone.

You quickly looked away, your heart fluttering in your chest, a strange mixture of emotions churning within you. You knew you shouldn't think of him in that way, shouldn't let the words of the younger nuns affect you, but it was impossible not to.

The memory of his touch, his voice, the way he had looked at you in the confessional—it all came rushing back, making your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly as you closed your Bible.

A second later, a shadow fell over the group; the young nuns quickly quieted, their giggles turning into soft murmurs. Looking up, you saw Father Charlie standing before you, a small, knowing grin on his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your breath catch. He gave a short, polite bow of his head. "Good morning, Sister ____," he said, his voice smooth, almost gentle, before his gaze shifted to the rest of the group. "Good morning, sisters."

The young nuns responded in unison, their voices a mix of giggles and greetings. You looked down at your Bible, mumbling a quiet, "Good morning, Father Charlie," along with the others, your face heating up under his watchful eyes.

You thought that was the end of it, that he would move on and let you be, but then he spoke again, his voice calling your name.

"Sister ____," he said, his tone still polite, but there was something in it that made your heart skip a beat. "I was hoping I could have your assistance with preparing for next week's sermon. I need some help organizing the notes and scriptures. Would you be able to spare a moment?"

You felt your heart race, already knowing that this was a lie, that his request had little to do with the sermon and everything to do with the tension that lingered between you.

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, nodding as you closed your Bible and rose to your feet. "Of course, Father," you replied, turning to the young nuns. "I'll see you all later."

They nodded, their eyes wide with curiosity as they watched you walk away with Father Charlie. He led you across the courtyard, his pace measured, his hands clasped behind his back.

You followed him in silence, your heart pounding, your mind racing with a mix of anticipation and fear.

He brought you to the sacristy—a room in the church where sacred objects and vestments were kept and prepared for use during rituals.

The room was medium-sized, its thick concrete walls lined with shelves that held ornate chalices, gilded candlesticks, and other sacred items. A large wooden table stood in the center, covered with cloth and a few open books, the sunlight streaming through the small window, casting a warm glow over the space.

The air smelled faintly of incense, the scent comforting yet heavy, reminding you of the solemnity of the church.

You turned around just in time to see Father Charlie shut the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as he turned back to you, his eyes dark, filled with something you couldn't quite name—something that made your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly at your sides.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, and turned back around, your eyes roaming over the various sacred objects lining the shelves. You busied yourself by adjusting the cloth on the table, pretending to study the items, anything to keep yourself distracted from the tension filling the room.

You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, the air thick with something unspoken.

A shudder ran through you as you felt his hands on your shoulders, his fingers rubbing gently against the fabric of your habit, caressing your shoulders with a slow, deliberate touch. You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tremble that ran through your body, your breath catching in your throat.

"F-Father Charlie..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, he spun you around, his hands firm on your shoulders. His eyes were intense, dark, filled with a hunger that made your knees weak. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the way his pupils were blown wide; his lips parted slightly as he looked at you.

"Shhh," he murmured, one of his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but there was an intensity behind it that made your heart race. His gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were caught, trapped in the depth of his eyes, unable to look away.

You took a shaky step back, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white as you spoke, your voice trembling. "Father, I... I find myself at war. What we... what we have, it's wrong. It's against everything we believe in, everything we stand for. I can't... we can't keep doing this."

You heard him let out a soft, frustrated sigh, and a second later, his hands were on you again, spinning you around to face him. There was a tension in his jaw; his eyes narrowed slightly, frustration evident in the way he looked at you.

"No," he said, his voice firm, his gaze intense as he held you in place. "No, Sister. You're wrong. This... what we have, it's not wrong. It's not some sin that we need to be ashamed of." His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you think the love between Jesus and Mary Magdalene was wrong? Do you think He loved her any less because of who she was? Love is not something to be condemned, not when it's real... not when it consumes you the way this consumes me."

His voice dropped lower, almost a groan, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours. "You have no idea what you do to me. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you speak—it's made me delirious. I can't think of anything else but you; I can't focus on anything but this need, this hunger for you. You've taken hold of me, body and soul, and I can't... I can't let you go."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his gaze, the raw need in his voice. You could feel your resolve crumbling, the conflict within you fading beneath the weight of his confession, the depth of his longing.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, a desperate edge to his words. "Please, just let me have you, one last time. If you're sure—if you really mean it, I'll let you go. But please... just one more time."

A soft, almost mousy, "Okay," left your lips before you could stop yourself, the word barely audible, but it was all he needed.

In an instant, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands pulling you close, his fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you with a hunger that took your breath away.

Your steps staggered back, your body unsteady as he moved with you, following you, his lips never leaving yours. Your back hit the edge of the table, and he pressed against you, his body warm, his touch insistent, his kiss deepening as his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he guided you onto the table, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the intensity of his need, the way his body pressed against yours, his hands exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His fingers were frantic as they pushed up your habit, his touch rough, almost desperate. His lips never left your skin, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, across your chest.

You could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, his need evident in every hurried movement, every touch. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing your soft moans as his hands moved beneath the fabric, lifting it higher, his touch hot against your bare skin.

You gasped when he dropped to his knees before you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, his hands holding your legs apart. Just as he was about to continue, you panicked slightly, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. "W-Wait," you stuttered, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie looked up at you, his gaze questioning, his breath hot against your thighs. His eyes were dark, filled with desire, and his lips were parted, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously as you avoided his gaze, your fingers still gripping his shoulders. "I... you always... I mean, you always... please me with your mouth," you stammered, your face growing hot, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I was wondering if... if I could... return the favor?"

Your words were awkward, your innocence clear in the way you spoke, the way your eyes flickered everywhere but at him. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your voice going quiet. "I mean... if you want, Father..." You finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, nervous, and hopeful.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension. You began to worry that you had said something wrong, that you had crossed some line, but then Charlie let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your thighs, his head dropping against them. He muttered something, his voice muffled, and you barely caught the words, "Are you truly an angel, or a devil sent to test me?"

He stood slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs as he rose, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached you, he cupped your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, his tongue teasing, tasting, and when he finally pulled away, he left a soft peck against your lips. His eyes were softer now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip, his touch tender.

Then, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening, a low, commanding tone entering his voice as he spoke. "Get on your knees," he said, his voice almost a growl.

You felt a shiver run through you, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You stared up at him, your heart pounding, your pulse quickening as you saw the way his eyes had darkened, the hunger there almost overwhelming. His breathing was shallow, his gaze so intense it made your knees weak.

Slowly, you moved, slipping off the table, your feet touching the ground as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. You didn't break eye contact as you descended, your gaze locked on his, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

There was something electric in the air, something that made your skin tingle, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

Father Charlie's eyes were dark, his gaze fixed on you, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling as he watched you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you almost unbearable.

You knelt there, looking up at him, your hands resting on your thighs, waiting, anticipating.

Slowly, Charlie's hands moved beneath his robes, the rustling of fabric almost deafening in the silence of the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him, expecting him to pull his robes up and over his waist, but instead, he began slipping off the entire robe, his movements slow, deliberate.

Your gaze was drawn to his chest as the robe slid off his shoulders, revealing smooth, tanned skin, the muscles beneath rippling with each movement. He pulled the robe over his head, his arms flexing, the fabric falling to the floor behind him.

Your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every inch of him—the broadness of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell, the dark hair that started at his navel and led downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his unbuckled trousers.

There was a dark line of hair, a happy trail that made your breathing stutter, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Charlie's eyes never left yours as he reached down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch gentle, almost affectionate. His thumb caressed the bottom of your face before his hand shifted, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered slightly. His eyes darkened, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Pull it out," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He dropped his hand away, his gaze heavy as he watched you.

With shaking hands, you reached up, your fingers trembling as they found the button of his trousers. You fumbled for a moment, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers brushing against the zipper, pulling it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. You tugged the fabric down his hips, the trousers falling to his ankles.

Your eyes widened as you saw the large bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers, the outline of him clear, the sight making your breath hitch. Slowly, you reached forward, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, your gaze fixed on him.

His length sprang free, bobbing slightly before settling against his thigh. You couldn't help but stare, taking him in. The veins along his length stood out, thick and prominent, the head flushed a deep pink, glistening slightly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the reality of it sinking in. He was bigger than you remembered, the sheer size of him making your breath catch, your heart pounding even harder.

That... that was inside me...

Your cheeks flushed at the memory, the thought of it making your thighs press together, heat pooling in your belly.

"Sister," Charlie's voice broke through your thoughts, his tone soft but commanding. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze, his dark eyes watching you intently. There was something in his expression, a mixture of desire and tenderness that made your breath catch. "Give me your hand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for only a moment before you extended your hand to him, your fingers trembling slightly. He took it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and you watched as his other hand moved down his chest, his fingers gliding over his smooth skin, tracing the lines of his muscles before finally wrapping around his length.

He let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he began to stroke himself, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction, his lips parted as he sucked in a breath, a shudder running through his body.

The sight made your mouth go dry, your eyes widening as you watched him, unable to look away. After a few seconds, he shuddered your name, his voice rough, needy. "Touch me," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze filled with desire.

You allowed him to guide your hand, wrapping your fingers around him, his own hand covering yours, his grip firm. A low, broken moan left his lips at the contact, his head tilting back slightly, his eyes closing for a moment.

You could feel the warmth of him, the way he twitched in your hand, the weight of him almost overwhelming.

Sitting up on your knees, you moved closer, your other hand resting on his strong thigh to steady yourself. Your thumb unconsciously brushed against his leg, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you focused on holding him in your hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes questioning, unsure of what to do next. Charlie's gaze dropped to meet yours, his thumb reaching out to pull down your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he dipped it into your mouth for a brief moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice almost a whisper. "Open wider," he instructed, his eyes fixed on you. "Drop your tongue, just like you're about to eat a popsicle."

You followed his instructions, your jaw dropping open, your tongue hanging out slightly, your eyes still locked on his. He hummed in approval, guiding your hand up, moving his length towards your awaiting tongue.

The tip of him brushed against your tongue, the taste salty, musky, as he rubbed the head across the surface, letting out an appreciative hum. He did this for a few seconds, his eyes watching every reaction you made, his lips curling into a small smile.

Slowly, he pushed himself further into your mouth, just an inch or two, his breath hitching as he watched you. "Close your lips around it," he murmured, his voice strained. "Suck."

You closed your mouth around him, your lips sealing around the head of his length, your tongue pressing against the underside. He let out a deep groan, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you in place. "Just like that," he whispered, his voice thick hoarse. "That's it... good girl."

You began to suck gently, your cheeks hollowing as you moved your head slightly, taking him in just a bit more. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

His hips jerked slightly, a low moan escaping his lips as he watched you, his eyes dark, filled with lust. He guided you slowly, his hand on the back of your head setting the pace, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment.

"Use your tongue," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Swirl it around the tip... yes, just like that." You did as he instructed, your tongue moving over the sensitive head, and he shuddered, his grip on your hair tightening, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he muttered, his voice strained, his eyes locked on yours.

You continued to move, your hand stroking the base of him as you sucked, your other hand still resting on his thigh, your thumb brushing against his skin in a soothing motion.

His breaths came in short gasps, his chest heaving as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted. He whispered your name, his voice filled with need, his hips rocking slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"You're perfect," he groaned, his head tilting back, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the sensation. "So good... just like that. Don't stop." His words were slurred, his voice thick with pleasure, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him growing stronger as he neared his peak.

His hips began to move more, his breathing turning into short, desperate gasps, his hand guiding you, holding you in place as he chased his release. He muttered your name, his voice breaking, a mixture of moans and whispered praises filling the room as he lost himself to the pleasure.

When he finally came, the taste of him filled your mouth, his hips jerking, a deep groan escaping his lips as he held you there, his fingers tangled in your hair. He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at you, his eyes dark, filled with something raw, something possessive.

Charlie reached down, his hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you up from your knees with a strength that left you breathless. He yanked you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He groaned against your lips, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his kiss deep, consuming. His tongue moved against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled back slightly, licking across your lips before placing a softer, lingering kiss there.

He pulled away, his eyes locking onto yours, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. Without a word, he lifted you, settling you back onto the table, his hands pushing up your habit, his gaze dropping between your legs as he knelt before you once again. "I need to prep you," he murmured, his voice husky, his hands sliding up your thighs.

His fingers reached between your legs, expecting to find the fabric of your underwear, but instead, they came in contact with your soaked folds. He let out a surprised sound, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, a brow raised in question. You released a huff, your cheeks flushing as you looked away, muttering, "It's laundry day..."

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his lips curling into an amused smile. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your knee before his hands moved to push your thighs further apart, the stretch making your muscles burn slightly, the sensation both uncomfortable and thrilling. He held your legs open, his eyes fixed on you, watching your every reaction.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive flesh, a silent gasp falling from your lips, your eyes closing, your head falling back as your back arched off the table.

The feeling of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, made your thighs tremble in his hold, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue moving with purpose, teasing your entrance, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently.

One of his hands moved up, his fingers brushing against your entrance before slowly pushing inside, stretching you, his mouth never stopping, never hesitating. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, every flick of his tongue, every gentle thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm built slowly, a steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Charlie seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss, how to move his fingers to bring you to the brink, his name falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body trembling, your thighs shaking around his head.

But just as you were about to fall over the edge, just as the pleasure was about to consume you, he pulled away.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your eyes opening, a mixture of confusion and need in your gaze as you looked down at him. He stood slowly, his eyes dark, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body aching for release.

Charlie licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached up, his fingers tilting your head back, exposing the line of your neck to him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. His other hand moved to wrap one of your legs around his waist, his fingers digging into your thigh as he held you against him, his body pressed tightly to yours.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Don't worry, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll fill you back up and give you what you need." The words sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching at the promise, a whimper escaping your lips.

Charlie reached between your bodies, his hand wrapping around his length, positioning himself. He rubbed the tip against your clit, the sensation making your body jerk, a gasp falling from your lips.

He moved slowly, dragging the head of his length up and down your slit, teasing you, your body trembling in his arms, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he pushed forward, bullying his way into you, the stretch almost unbearable.

You arched further into his arms, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your body struggling to accommodate him. He let out a deep groan, his fingers tightening on your thigh, his other hand moving to grip your hip, holding you in place as he filled you completely.

His pace was brutal, each stroke long and deep, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, his hips slamming against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low, rough, filled with need. "You... You feel so good... so tight around me," he panted, his words broken by soft moans. "I'm going to fuck you, fill you up until you can't think of anything else."

His hips snapped against yours, his movements rough, desperate, his body pressing you down against the table, his weight holding you in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Imagine it, Sister," he whispered, his voice dark, almost a growl. "A secret child... a product of our sin, of our blasphemy against the church." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your core clenching around him, your body reacting to the forbidden promise, the thought of it pushing you closer to the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing, your back arching as the pleasure consumed you, a silent scream on your lips. You could feel Charlie shudder above you, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in short gasps as he chased his own release.

After a few more brutal strokes, he let out a deep groan, his hips pressing against yours as he came, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin.

He stayed there, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. You could feel his heart pounding against your own, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

You shivered as he began to pull back, the movement making you wince slightly, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure.

His softening length slipped out of you, the feeling making you gasp softly, a mix of relief and emptiness settling in your chest. You felt the warm, sticky sensation as globs of his cum poured out, slowly dripping down your inner thighs.

You began to close your legs, thinking he was done, that he would put his clothes back on, but his hand stopped you, his fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, keeping you open.

Charlie lowered himself to his knees once again, his eyes fixed on you, a dark hunger still present in his gaze. Before you could understand what was happening, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive folds.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue, warm and wet, sliding through your slickness, lapping up the mixture of your release and his own. His groans were sinful, vibrating against you, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the taste.

Your brain raced, unsure of what to do or what to say, your body twitching beneath his touch, your legs instinctively trying to close, still overly sensitive from your previous climax. But Charlie's hands were strong, his grip firm as he held your thighs apart, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you open for him.

He was relentless, his tongue moving with purpose, his lips closing around your swollen clit, sucking gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You could feel the pleasure building again, a slow, steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

You couldn't hold back the soft whimpers and moans that spilled from your lips, your head falling back, your eyes closing as the pleasure consumed you.

When you came, it hit you like a final, blinding wave, your body arching off the table, your thighs trembling in Charlie's hold. A broken cry escaped your lips, your back arching, your eyes squeezed shut.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Your mind was clouded as the pleasure consumed you, the feeling like the flames of damnation licking at your skin. For I am burned by the fire of desire, a sinner in the eyes of heaven.

And you weren't sure if you minded at all.

A/N: ya know, i think my smut has gotten better, what do you guys think??? and to answer the upcoming question(s) i know will be asked: yes, this is the final part, i won't be continuing the 'Devotion' series/making it into a book 😔 i know, i know. i promise i want too, but knowing me, i tend to bounce around/start new projects out of nowhere, so if i didn't spend weeks planning before hand, it'll grow cold eventually, and i don't wanna put you guys through that 😩 but never fret, i will continue writing for father charlie 😝, he's just too versatile not to. see you guys soon ❤️❤️❤️.

[c-cobweb]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝓜ASTERLIST .ᐟ

+18, minors/ageless blogs don’t interact!! request open!

★ = smut/suggestive. ♥︎ = fluff. 𓉸 = angst.

ᡣ𐭩 . evan peters & characters.

one shots .ᐟ

★ ⋮ be a freak like me too — jimmy darling.

𓉸 ⋮ back to the old house — frat!kyle spencer.

★ ⋮ ultraviolence — kai anderson.

𓉸/♥︎ ⋮ there goes my hero — frat!kyle spencer.

★ ⋮ feelz — perv!tate langdon.

★ ⋮ first time — pre cult!kai anderson.

★ ⋮ daddy’s girl — girldad!evan peters.

★ ⋮ don’t stand so close to me — teacher!colin zabel.

drabbles .ᐟ

★ ⋮ meeting the parents — evan peters.

★ ⋮ what if we kissed in the murder tunnel? — tate langdon.

ᡣ𐭩 . nicholas a. chavez & characters.

one shots .ᐟ

★ ⋮ disease — father!charlie mayhew.

★ ⋮ our little secret — doctor!charlie mayhew.

bots

 c-cobweb 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[angelssmvse]

𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙎 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙔𝙃𝙀𝙒

This is an edit I made and got inspired by for my most recent smut. ( click here to read🤍 )

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story; please do not copy nor translate without permission or proper attribution. I give credit for the character Father Charlie Mayhew from the series "Grotesquerie" by Ryan Murphy. This is the only platform where I have published the story.

[niteskysx]

Stepbro! Nicholas Chavez x reader (one shot fic kinda?, established relationship)

As per your usual evening routine, you’re sitting on the couch with a textbook open on your lap, trying to lose yourself in your studies. Eventually, you hear footsteps—heavy, purposeful—and before you even look up, you know it’s Nick.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, his jaw set in a tense line. There’s a hardness in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. You hesitate to ask, but you do it anyway. Can’t hurt, can it?

“Rough day?” you ask softly, trying to ease the tension with a small, nervous smile.

Nick doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he drops down beside you on the couch, much closer than he usually does. “You could say that,” he mutters, his tone sharper than usual. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back, his gaze drifting over you slowly, intently. “Think you could help make it better?”

And there it was.

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small nod. “How… how can I help?”

He raises an eyebrow, almost amused by your innocence. “Just… be here with me.”

His hand moves to rest on your knee, his thumb slowly tracing circles against the fabric of your jeans, sending a shivers down your back.

You feel that familiar touch on you, whenever he “needs” you. “I-I’m here,” you whisper, glancing down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Good,” Nick murmurs, his hand moving up just a bit, his fingers grazing your thigh. “Because I need a distraction. He leans in, his voice softening as he leans in closer to you. “Think you can keep me company tonight?”

You take a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to speak. “Nick… maybe tonight isn’t the best time. I really need to focus on my studies,” you say, forcing a gentle smile, hoping he’ll take the hint and let you go.

Nick leans closer, his voice soft but insistent. “C’mon. Just a few minutes. You don’t have to study all night, do you?” He slides his hand just a little higher as he gives you a faint, almost pleading smile.

You swallow, feeling trapped under his stare. “I… I really can’t, Nick.” you stammer, trying to pull your thoughts together, to say something that might sway him.

Nick’s narrow at your hesitation, and his expression shifts into one of frustration. He lets out a sharp breath, his hand leaving your thigh abruptly. “Fine. Whatever,” he mutters, his voice edged with annoyance. He pushes himself up from the couch, giving you one last hard look before turning on his heel.

Ten minutes flew by.

You had been sitting there in silence for ten whole minutes and you know you should be getting back to your studying but you couldn’t…. He just seemed so mad and you didn’t want him to mad at you. Why did it bother you so much?

You couldn’t figure out why you felt this way, especially considering the amount of stress this man gives you— Sneaking around the house, him finding new ways to “torture” you or pleasure you— depending on what his mood is, making sure no one sees you two together, especially your mom and stepdad.

Before you know it, you found yourself standing outside his door, hesitant. Part of you wants to turn back, but another part of you is telling you to knock on that door.

God, has he completely corrupted you?

Your trembling hands manage to knock lightly on the door, and after a moment, you hear his voice from the other side. “Yeah?”

Slowly, you push the door open, peeking in to see him lying on his bed, playing with a baseball ball by himself, with his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He doesn’t look at you, but you can tell by the way his jaw tightens that he knows it’s you.

“Hey… I just wanted to check on you,” you say softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

He finally turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Why? Thought you were too busy,” he says, his tone a mix of bitterness and something else—something that makes your heart race.

You take a hesitant step forward. “I… I’m sorry if I upset you. I just really needed to study, that’s all.”

Nick sits up slowly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Yeah? And what about now? Suddenly have time for me?”

He sounds mad, but still manages a slight smirk on his face.

You take a seat next to him on the bed.

“I just… didn’t want you to be upset,” you mumble, looking down at your hands.

He scoots in closer to you, closing the space between you and him. “So, you’re here to make it up to me, then?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. “What? I-I didn’t mean—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He leans in even closer than before, with his hand resting on your knee and his face mere inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your face. “I think you did,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on your hips, pulling you just a little closer. “So… make it up to me, then.”

(I WANNA CONTINUE THIS BUT I HAVE NO IDEAS!! 😭 SO IF YOU LIKE THIS SHITTY PIECE AND HAVE IDEAS FOR TO CONTINUE IT LOL PLS LMK OKAYY ILYY 🤍)

[hearts4hughes]

— BLOG GUIDELINES

this blog is a safe space for everyone. i will not condone any form of hate directed to me or my followers. you will be blocked if you send hate, anon or not.

i will write…

imagines ; one shots ; blurbs ; insta edits ; headcanons ; nsfw ; sfw

platonic ; romantic ; sibling relationships

fluff ; smut ; angst

who i write for…

jack hughes ; luke hughes ; quinn hughes ; jamie drysdale ; mark estapa ; trevor zegras ; mark estapa ; matt rempe

evan peters ; nicholas chavez ; drew starkey

tate langdon ; kai anderson ; james patrick march ; kyle spencer (pre death) ; peter maximoff ; kit walker

father charlie mayhew ; doctor charlie mayhew ; patrick bateman ; rafe cameron

requesting…

please be patient with me when requesting! i go to school and have a job, tumblr isn’t my life. stick to my list of people who i write for, it’s there for a reason lol. i mostly write fem! reader because it’s easiest for me to write.