#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”.

[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 🤍)

[babygorewhore]

Am I making you feel sick?

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader one shot.

When Father Charlie Mayhew sees you, a magnetic young woman who isn’t the typical Catholic, his sinful nature only grows.

Thank you so much to @cxrrodedcoffin for helping me brain storm and to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the picture!

Warnings! Perv! Charlie. Panty stealing, male masturbation, self whipping, obsessive behavior, mild talks of violence, blasphemy, male receiving oral, choking, pussy slapping, degrading, spitting, female recieving oral, unprotected sex, face slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms!

The markings on Charlie’s back were a humbling reminder of his sin. He focused his efforts onto appearing normal. A regular service. A way to give the people encouragement, guidance and a spiritual feast. But keeping his composure while you played with the fringes of your skirt, the curves of your thighs exposed as you crossed your ankles. That proved to be a significant challenge.

You were a regular member of the church. Your attendance isolated. Your presence came after the death of your grandparents a few months prior.

He remembered first seeing you. As if a halo shined above your head as you confidently strode into the building. The click of your platform shoes echoed across the floor as you plopped onto a seat. Charlie nearly stumbled over his sermon when you met eyes that day. Your gaze was focused. Made up eyes with a mixture of curiosity and rebellion.

Above your heart, you wore a silver cross. The muscles in your neck flexing as you chew a piece of bubble gum. Beautiful wasn’t fitting enough to describe you. Charlie was enchanted by the way you tried to follow along in your Bible but you seemed to be a step behind.

His cock started to throb when you would separate your legs, exposing the black lace material that covered your pussy. After the third time he saw you, Charlie approached you with a confident stride. He hoped it was enough to cover the urge to wince at his wounds. It’s what he deserved after his fist jerked himself off the previous nights.

He readied himself to speak but you looked him up and down with a slight smirk.

“Yeah?” You ran the tip of your tongue along the edges of your teeth and Charlie cleared his throat.

“God looks favorably on those who are devout to him. And I know he looks down on you with deep appreciation.” He was used to his charm working immediately. Charlie prepared for flirtation in return, a giggle or even batting eyelashes but instead you snorted with a flick of your hair.

“Duh. That’s why I come here. I know God loves me otherwise I wouldn’t be alive.” He opened his mouth to question what you meant but you spun on your heels and walked away.

Charlie was self admittedly obsessed with you. He found every excuse imaginable to walk by your area. He found you online. His fingers shook and his forearm was sore from busting a load when he looked at your photos.

But his deep desire for you only grew when he ran into you at the diner. You drank a milkshake and nibbled on the remainder of your fries. When you saw him, you waved him over. Charlie plastered on a smile and spoke your name with a feign politeness.

“Can you be a good little priest and watch my purse?” You asked him and he swallowed. He nodded as you walked to the near restroom.

Charlie understood fully it was juvenile to search your purse but when his fingers fell on the material of lace, an overwhelming feeling of excitement came. He pocketed the pair of panties and gained his strength when you returned.

His life before turning to the cloth consisted of perverse acts and they lingered within him like a poison. You were possessing his every thought just like corrupted angels that turned away from God. Charlie was tired of his own rough hand. One that inflicted regular discipline. One that desperately wanted to touch you.

He walked around the church during nightfall. Kneeling before the candles and begging for any assistance. For strength to resist. But it was too much. So much so, that Father Charlie began stealing more and more things. A lipgloss tube. Chains. A secondary fragrance. Anything that could bring him closer to you.

Charlie concluded and pried himself out of the intoxication of the image of being between your legs.

“Take solace in the congregation!” He cried out, holding his hands up. “Lean onto God for your salvation against this treachery!” Charlie quieted.

The service concluded and the rainfall began. Numbers dwindled except you. His breathing trembled as he strode to you. “Ah, is your mind filled with worry?” He tucked his hands behind his back. You popped your hip and stared at the wood intricacies.

“I can’t go home. There was a leak in my apartment ceiling. I’m about to phone a friend so I can stay with him while it’s being fixed.” You adjusted your ring and Charlie clenched his fists.

The mention of another male made him feel nearly nauseous. Charlie clicked his jaw and raised his eyebrows. “You can have sanctuary here. We have rooms-“

“God, why do you talk like that?” You turned to face him and he was taken aback by your aggressive tone. “You’re my age. And you act like you’re Jesus!”

You gripped his collar suddenly and Charlie let out a gasp. Your breath smelled like strawberries. The shine to your lips with a hint of glitter. “Get over yourself, Father. Just because you wear this ridiculous outfit, doesn’t mean you’re anything less than a little boy.”

Every word you spoke was laced with a condescending bite. You let him go but Charlie didn’t step back. His eyes kept falling to the wicked mouth giving him a slew of insults that were a muffle in his ears.

“Anyway. I keep trying to call him but there’s barely any service in here.” You roll your eyes and Charlie musters his confidence back.

“You can stay here tonight. Give him a call in the morning. I can promise you safety here.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You seemed to contemplate it for a moment. Your stare narrowed before a minimal softness came.

“Well. I guess I can spare one night.”

Charlie led you in silence to his room. Every footstep was heavy. The weight of his internal battle tormenting him. He stood in silence as your fingers traced the walls, lingering on the hung cross and twirled the quilt on his bed.

You sat down, resting your palms on your knees and met his look.

“How long have you been catholic?” The question was genuine and his intrigue increased as you chuckled. You examined your nails with a lilting response.

“Not long. Grew up around the church but left when I was eighteen. Swore it off until these super hot guys in a band attacked me,” His jaw dropped and rage ignited his chest. “But I happened to have my Cross. Guess you could call it Divine intervention. I stabbed the man with it in the eye. Maced the other one. Third dude ran away.”

You completed the sentence with a giggle. “I promised God that if he got me out, I’d join the church. And I keep my word.” You pressed your hands together in prayer.

Charlie lost control of his body and he moved towards you. He set his large hands on your shoulders, squeezing your muscles and he bent down. “How could anyone want to hurt you?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He pressed a finger against your lips and you pulled it into your mouth. Charlie grunted and removed it.

You sank down on the floor, unbuckling his pants with a practiced ease. Peering at him, you smiled and hooked your finger in his trousers.

His size and girth made your mouth water. You allowed your lips to part, drool pooling down your tongue that stuck out. You removed his boxers, Charlie’s dick twitching as you slapped the tip against your tongue. You licked his length, dragging motions that made his vision go white.

When you took him in your mouth, moving your neck to deepthroat, he moaned and his hand set on your head. Charlie pumped your skull, thrusting but you pulled off. Messily sucking his balls and he started convulsing.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He pulled the strings. He held the reins and control was his.

A part of him unlocked, one that he tried to put away. Charlie growled and yanked you off his shaft. Laughter escaped you, as you still believed you called the shots.

“Oh my god! You were about to cream down my throat and I only did it for a minute or two.” He stood there as you dug the pair of stolen panties from his pocket.

“Did you really think I was that stupid? You think I don’t know a fucking pervert when I see them?” You flicked them at his face and Charlie’s cheeks heated. “You’re disgusting.”

He reached and gripped your jaw. Charlie backed you up until you were slammed on the bed, his knee between your thighs as his cock pulsed. He wrapped that same hand around your throat, squeezing until you were staring at him with wide eyes.

“I am going to ruin you and that sweet little pussy you flash at me. You think this is a goddamn joke?” His voice was rasped with lust and a sickness he caught the moment he saw you.

Charlie let go of your throat and watched you cough. He tore away your panties, shredding off the skirt and stared at your dripping cunt. He let his head fall to the side, dark brown eyes focused on your flustered expression.

You went to gain some sort of momentum to support yourself but Charlie gave your pussy a sharp slap.

You made a shrieking noise at the impact and he scoffed. “Oh don’t act so fuckin stupid. Is that little corrupted brain of yours not getting it?” Weeks of build up poured out of him and he smacked your center three more times. Each strike harder than the last.

Your mouth pressed in a line, a poor attempt to conceal the pleasure. Charlie allowed a sinister smile to curl. “You’re almost as fucked up as I am, doll.” Your eyes widened as he slowly let his mouth graze your lower half.

He let his full lips brush against your bare skin as he breathed in. Charlie smelled the scent of your pulsing cunt and the wild need ignited in him. The priest gripped your hips as his knees pressed into the floor. He smashed his mouth against your pussy.

It was better than candy. The most saccharine sensation as he parted his lips and found your clit. Charlie’s dick was so hard that his hand picked up the discarded panties. He wrapped them around his cock, moaning at the relief as his tongue tasted you.

Charlie worked you over, his other hand keeping your hips in place.

His nose hit the right spots and he wasn’t shy about being messy. You were panting, holding his head and grinding as much as you could. Your moans were better than his favorite song. Charlie had plenty of experience burying his face between a woman’s legs. It was something that he did not only for their pleasure but his own.

Feeling your body contract, moving into his corrupted touch made Charlie’s eyes roll back as more slick soaked his mouth. You cried out, a series of, “Oh god, fuck! F-fuck.” You sounded on the brink of tears.

Charlie pushed two fingers inside you, making your whimpers become pathetic. He pumped them as he lifted himself, hovering over you with a wet chin. “Open that whore mouth,” he commanded and you did.

Charlie let the spit fall, coating your tongue and lips. “Swallow it. You know all about that, huh?” He enjoyed the sight of you beneath him. Charlie kissed you. Deeply and hungrily. He sucked your lower lip lewdly, letting a thick groan escape him. You returned it in kind, pressing your chest against his, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his arms.

Your fingers felt the scars on his back but Charlie didn’t care. Every single self inflicted mark was worth it if it meant he could be with you.

“Fuck me, please. Please fuck me,” You begged and Charlie’s dick fucking hurt but he loved the pain. He ran the tip of his cock against your clit, smearing the cum and continuous wetness.

He sank into your entrance, stretching you and you both let out a harmonious sigh. Charlie’s half opened eyes observed you arch your back but that familiar fire burned in your eyes. You tightened your legs that were around his waist. He knew you were trying to flip over. Not now. Charlie aggressively thrusted into you, bringing his hand down to spank the side of your ass.

“Oh no, you don’t get to ride me yet. You’re gonna lay there like the helpless sinner you are.” He growled and heaved your thighs over his shoulders. Getting an even deeper angle as your ass was off the mattress.

Drool escaped your hung open mouth and he let his palm feel your lower stomach. “Yeah? You feel that? Feel me in your pathetic pussy? You,” Thrust,” “Are,” thrust, “Mine.”

“Yours,” You sobbed and he smacked your face.

“You can do better. You can do fucking better than that.” Charlie smeared the spit on your mouth, cheek and slapped it again. “Tell me you’re a good girl.”

“I’m a good girl. I’m your good girl.” You pleaded with growing pleasure.

“See? You obey me. Deep down,” He felt the bulge again. “You’re a desperate little girl needing to be fucked. By someone as sick as me.”

You let out a wail, moans of pleasure coming out in staccato breaths. Charlie busted his load into your pussy, his lips hovering over yours as you both humped each other.

He rolled over, sinking you on his cock. Your tits were in his face, he sucked your nipple as you bounced. Charlie felt your fingers scratch his chest, marking his skin in the shape of a Cross with your nail.

He pried off your tit, his hands holding your waist. “Pussy squeezin me so tight. Like you can’t get enough. Greed is a sin,” Charlie sucked your pulse point and brought you to a second climax.

You fucked yourself on his dick. Mewling as he coated your insides with cum. “You’re my dirty little sinner. Give me every last drop. Let me have it,” He whispered the last part of the sentence.

He didn’t forget your tale of woe. Charlie put away your confession in his mind. You were put in a position of self defense. But if you hadn’t been so brave, you wouldn’t have walked into the congregation.

You slowed down, lazily riding his dick with a dazed expression.

“Get on your knees. You’re gonna lick my cock clean and finish the game you started.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @fear-is-truth @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @chavezprincess @titsout4nicholas @userchai @taintandviolent @webbluvrsugar @oceanblvd111

[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

[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)

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

[bushswkq]

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.

[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

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.

[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 ❤️❤️❤️.

[winxanity-ii]

SINS OF DEVOTION [2/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v ; fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: wasn't planning on expanding the one-shot, but here we are. i literally stayed up 7+ hours to write this just cuz i got a bunch of praise in the notes 😩 i'm weak... anywho this is a continuation of my previous one-shot, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read that yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

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

Ever since that night, you couldn't look Father Charlie in the eyes. How could you, when the man—the symbol of the glory of the Father above—had been buried between your thighs like a man starved?

Just looking at him brought back all the feelings, the emotions that twisted and churned inside you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

Every time you saw him in the chapel, his gaze lingering on you from across the room, your heart would race, your skin tingling with the memory of his touch.

You would try to focus on your duties, your prayers, but the image of him kneeling before you, his mouth claiming every part of you, would flash in your mind, making you falter. Your hands would tremble, your voice would break, and you would feel heat rising in your cheeks, knowing he was watching you.

And he was always watching you.

His eyes would find yours whenever you entered a room, his gaze dark and intent, filled with a hunger that hadn't diminished in the slightest since that stormy night.

You could feel it even from a distance—the way his eyes seemed to follow your every movement, as if he was marking you as his. It made your breath catch, your body reacting in ways you couldn't control, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you.

It was a regular Sunday mass when he finally cornered you; a neighboring pastor was visiting, giving a sermon, while you were cleaning out one of the confessionals.

The faint sound of the sermon echoed in the background, the low, rhythmic cadence of the visiting pastor's voice carrying through the church. You were kneeling on the ground, scrubbing the tiles, your sleeves rolled up to keep them out of the soapy water.

The scent of cleaning solution hung in the air as you worked, your humming soft, almost absent-minded, a gentle hymn that you barely even noticed yourself singing.

You were so absorbed in your task that you didn't notice the shadow fall over you until it was too late. You looked up, startled, your eyes widening as you tried to regain your composure.

"I'm sorry, this confessional booth is out of commission at the moment, I'm cleaning—" Your words trailed off as your gaze traveled upward, and your breath caught in your throat when you realized who was standing there.

It was Father Charlie.

His presence filled the small space, and you could feel the air grow heavy around you, your pulse quickening as his eyes locked onto yours. There was something about the way he looked at you—something dark and knowing—that made your heart pound, your hands freezing where they rested on the damp cloth.

The brush slipped from your fingers, falling back into the soapy water with a splash that sprayed droplets onto the floor and your habit, snapping you out of your daze. You stuttered, "F-Father Charlie," quickly standing up, giving a short bow. "Blessed Sunday morning, Father."

Charlie's lips twitched up into a smile as he stepped further into the cramped confessional booth, the door closing with a soft click behind him. "Blessed Sunday to you as well, Sister ____."

Your eyes flickered to his lips, your breath catching as your mind flashed back to how he had used that very mouth to bring you to the brink of pleasure—his lips, his tongue, every sinful movement etched into your memory. You swallowed hard, your face warming at the thought, your hands fidgeting as you struggled to look anywhere but at him.

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out small. "Is there... is there anything I can do for you, Father?"

Charlie hummed thoughtfully, taking another step closer until he was right in front of you, the space between you almost nonexistent.

Your gaze dropped to his chest, the black fabric of his cassock filling your vision, the scent of him overwhelming—something warm and clean, with a hint of incense. You could feel your heart pounding, your breath hitching as he spoke, his voice low and deep.

"There are many things you could do for me, Sister," he murmured, his tone shifting, darkening, as his lips curled into a smirk. "We could pray... or perhaps," he paused, his eyes glinting as his voice dropped even lower, "you could help me find a different kind of release."

Your eyes widened at the crude implication, your gaze shooting up to meet his, only to find him already watching your face, his eyes hooded and dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach twist.

You felt heat pooling low in your belly, the tension in the small space between you almost unbearable. You shook your head slightly, your voice coming out in a whisper, shaky and unsure. "Father Charlie, we shouldn't... we can't..."

Charlie didn't answer, not with words. Instead, he took another step forward, his body pressing against yours as he used his arms to cage you in, one hand bracing against the wall of the confessional beside your head. His other hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You could feel his breath, warm against your skin, his face so close that your noses almost brushed. His eyes were dark, filled with something raw, something that made your knees feel weak.

He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice a whisper, almost pleading. "Do you know what you do to me, Sister? How you push me to sin, how you make me want things I shouldn't?"

His hand left your cheek, moving down to grab your wrist, guiding your hand between your bodies, pressing it firmly against the hardness straining beneath his cassock. Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you felt him, your eyes widening, your entire body tensing at the sensation.

"Feel that?" he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "That's what you do to me. Every time I see you, every time you look at me with those innocent eyes... you make me lose control."

You felt your heart racing, your mind spinning, a mix of fear and something else—something dark and thrilling—coursing through you as Father Charlie's hand held yours in place, his gaze locked onto yours, unrelenting, his lips brushing against yours in the barest of touches, waiting, coaxing you to give in.

Your thoughts raced. So many times since that night, you had fantasized about him, dreamed about him fully taking you, about giving in to the desires that had been eating away at you. But now, with him right in front of you, so desperate, so wanting, it made you dizzy.

You were a nun, a devoted daughter, a wife to the Lord—yet here you were, on the verge of surrendering. Your lips parted as you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to cling to the last shreds of your faith.

But then you licked your lips, and you saw how his eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement, darkening with something almost primal. His gaze was intense, unblinking, and you felt the pull, the weight of his need, and it made something inside you snap.

With all the bravery you could muster, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his.

It was soft, a gentle peck, barely more than a brush of your lips against his, but it was enough to make your heart race like you were running a marathon.

For a moment, you thought you could pull back, that this brief kiss could be enough to satisfy whatever it was burning between you.

But then Charlie groaned, the sound deep and raw, and before you could pull away, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you back to him, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His tongue slipped between your parted lips, invading your mouth, exploring, tasting.

The kiss was nothing like your timid attempt—it was fierce, overwhelming, consuming.

You felt his tongue caressing the inside of your mouth, tracing the shape of your teeth, stroking your own tongue, coaxing it to move with his. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he was savoring every second, every taste.

You felt your head grow light from the lack of air, your body trembling, but still, you were locked in the kiss, unable to pull away, unable to do anything but respond to him.

Your hands moved of their own accord, one of them gripping the front of his cassock, the other reaching up to tangle in his hair. The soft strands slipped through your fingers, and you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way his body seemed to hum with tension, with need.

Charlie's other hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the hard lines of his body pressing into yours, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of your habit. It made you feel like you were drowning in him, in his touch, his taste.

You whimpered against his lips, the sound muffled by the kiss, and he responded with a low growl, his hand tightening on your waist, his lips moving more insistently against yours.

Charlie pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he panted, his breath hot and heavy, mingling with your own. His eyes were dark, filled with something raw and unrestrained, and he let out a low groan, his voice rough with desire. "I wish so badly to mark you up, to strip you down right here and lose myself in you," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. The explicitness of his words made your cheeks burn, your face flushing as you pressed it into his neck, trying to hide your embarrassment.

But he wasn't done. He tilted your chin back up, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek, his eyes searching yours. "But it's too risky," he whispered, his voice filled with regret, and something almost feral. "So I'll settle for something much quicker."

As he spoke, his hands moved down, fingers traveling lower, bunching up the fabric of your tunic around your waist. His touch was frantic, almost desperate, his hands squeezing and kneading every inch of you he could reach, as if he couldn't get enough.

You could feel his fingers digging into your thighs, your hips, pulling you closer, pressing you against him, and it made your head spin, made your body ache with a need you didn't quite understand.

Your hands trembled as they found their place on his shoulders, your fingers hesitating, curling slightly in the fabric of his cassock. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching you, to let your hands explore, but you were too shy, too overwhelmed.

The intensity of his presence, the way his body felt against yours, it all left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie's gaze remained locked on yours, his eyes dark and filled with something raw, something that made your pulse quicken. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low murmur, almost a growl. "You don't have to be afraid... just let me take care of you."

Your breath hitched, your body tensing as you felt his hands venture lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by Charlie as he covered your mouth with his own, his lips moving against yours, silencing your small cries and whimpers.

His fingers moved with purpose, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow circles against your clit. The sensation made your knees go weak, your body trembling against him as he worked you with an expertise that left you breathless.

You tried to pull away from the kiss, to catch your breath, but he wouldn't let you, his mouth insistent, his tongue coaxing yours to move with his, swallowing every sound you made.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric as you felt his fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pushing inside.

A muffled whimper escaped your throat, your body tensing at the intrusion, the sensation both strange and thrilling. He moved slowly, his fingers stretching you, coaxing your body to relax, to accept him. You could feel every movement, every inch as he filled you, his touch deliberate, patient.

His lips never left yours, his kiss growing deeper, more demanding, as if he could feel your hesitation and was trying to coax you further, to draw you into the darkness with him. He pulled back for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he spoke, his voice a low whisper, thick with desire. "You feel so good, Sister... so perfect. Just let go for me."

Before you could respond, before you could even catch your breath, his hand moved to your thigh, his fingers curling around your leg as he lifted it, wrapping it around his waist.

The new angle made everything more intense, his fingers sinking deeper, his thumb brushing against your clit, drawing a shuddering moan from your lips.

The warmth in your belly grew, turning into a small flame that licked at your insides, consuming every thought, every hesitation; your body responded to his touch, your hips moving against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving you.

Charlie's breathing grew shallow, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his gaze roaming over your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted, the soft gasps escaping your throat.

Your thighs trembled, your body growing tense as you felt the pressure building, the sensation coiling tightly in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

But just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, just as the first waves of your orgasm began to crest, Charlie stopped. He pulled his fingers away, leaving you gasping, the sudden emptiness almost painful.

A soft, desperate whimper escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering open, wide and confused as you looked up at him.

He met your gaze, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked them clean, his tongue swirling around each digit, savoring the taste of you. "You taste so sweet, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I could spend all day between your thighs... but right now, I need something more."

He shifted, his hands moving to the waistband of his robe, shuffling the fabric around as he freed himself. You couldn't see anything, the fabric obscuring your view, but you felt it—the hard, heavy length of him brushing against your inner thigh, the sensation making your breath catch, your leg twitch involuntarily at the contact.

Charlie moved with a practiced ease, his hands gripping your hips as he shifted you, lifting you as if you weighed nothing.

Your back pressed against the wall of the confessional, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body. He adjusted his hold on you, his arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting them until both of your legs were hooked around his waist.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, the position leaving you completely at his mercy, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something in his eyes that made your heart race, made your body ache for more.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and something deeper, something that made your breath hitch, your fingers clinging to his shoulders as he held you up, pressing you against the wall. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "You drive me mad, Sister... Forgive me, I can't hold back any longer."

He adjusted his hold on you, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist, holding you up against the wall with ease while his other hand moved beneath the ruffled fabric of your habit.

Your legs hitched open wider, instinctively allowing him more access as you felt the warmth of his hand trailing up your inner thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin. The anticipation made your breath catch, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, your body aching for his touch.

You gasped softly as you felt something blunt press against your clit, moving up and down your slit, the sensation different this time—firmer, hotter. You thought it was his fingers again, but then Charlie let out a soft sigh, a quiet, breathless "fuck" that made your eyes widen, the realization hitting you all at once.

He wasn't using his fingers. It was him, the hard length of him brushing against you, spreading your slickness as he moved, the pressure making your head spin, your body growing even wetter at the sinful, blasphemous intimacy of it.

His movements were slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to look away, to deny what was happening. But you couldn't—your gaze was trapped by his, your lips parted as soft whimpers escaped, the sound swallowed by the heavy air between you.

Charlie's breath grew more ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Do you feel that, Sister? Do you see what you do to me?" His voice was thick with lust, his words a mixture of reverence and something far more depraved. He moved his hips, sliding himself against you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin as he began to push inside you, his voice low and shaky as he muttered a scripture, the holy words twisted by the desire lacing his tone. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." His voice trailed off into a deep, guttural groan as he sank deeper, the stretch almost too much, a sharp burn that made you gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as your body struggled to adjust to him.

Charlie paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours once again, his breathing heavy, his eyes searching your face as if looking for any sign of hesitation. But you were too lost in the sensation—the way he filled you, the way your body seemed to mold around him, the burn slowly giving way to something else, something that made your toes curl, your breath hitching as you nodded, a silent plea for him to keep going.

He smiled, a dark, almost tender smile, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, "Perfect." His hips moved again, slowly at first, his movements careful, deliberate, as he began to build a rhythm, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you, the feeling overwhelming, all-consuming.

And as you clung to him, your body trembling, you knew there was no turning back, no escaping the hold he had on you.

The two of you got lost in one another, the heat between you burning like a fire, desire crackling like embers, growing hotter with every movement. Charlie's pace quickened, his breaths coming out in harsh pants, his groans muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn't get close enough.

The rhythm of his thrusts grew more erratic, each one more desperate than the last, the intensity making your head spin, the pleasure building until it was almost too much.

You could hear him, his voice a mix of groans and soft, needy whines, his lips brushing against your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he moved, the friction, the pressure, everything pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body tensed, your muscles clenching around him as the band inside you finally snapped, the pleasure washing over you in a blinding wave. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as your entire body trembled, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the high.

Charlie shuddered in your arms, his own body tensing as he felt you tighten around him, his movements growing sloppy, desperate, until he finally stilled, his hips pressing against yours as he let out a low, guttural groan.

You felt the warmth of him spreading inside you, the sensation almost surreal, the realization that you had pushed him to this point, that you had made him lose control, making your heart pound even harder.

He stayed like that for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at you, something almost soft in his gaze.

Slowly, he pulled away, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your flushed cheeks as he leaned in, his nose bumping gently against yours, a small, tender gesture that made your heart swell.

Charlie's eyes held yours, his gaze intense, filled with a mix of emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice still thick with the remnants of his desire. "Pleasure is deceitful... as it was for the harlot, yet I cannot resist you."

A/N: alright guys, chill with the praise and notes or i won't be able to get rest 😔🫶🏾🫶🏾jkjkjk keep them coming i'm a whore for them 🥴

[winxanity-ii]

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..

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

You wouldn't say you were a bad person.

Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.

It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.

Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.

The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."

For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.

For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.

Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.

You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.

You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.

Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.

Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—

Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.

The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.

A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.

And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.

Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.

He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.

You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.

Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.

The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.

He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.

With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.

His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.

She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.

She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.

Father Charlie.

You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.

You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.

You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.

He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.

It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.

He seemed innocent, reactive.

You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.

Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.

You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.

The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.

You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.

You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.

The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.

Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.

As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."

You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.

He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"

Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."

You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.

His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.

You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."

He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."

"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"

He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.

This really was going to be fun.

The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.

Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.

You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.

You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.

There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."

You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."

You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.

If there wasn't a screen between you.

If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.

Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.

His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"

You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."

His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.

"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."

You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."

You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.

"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"

"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.

You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.

You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.

You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.

Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.

You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."

You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.

With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.

Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.

You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.

The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.

His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.

His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.

He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.

You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.

At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.

You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."

The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.

He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.

Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.

When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.

He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.

You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.

Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.

"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.

As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.

A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...

[erajunex]

Here’s a sneak peek from my upcoming Father Charlie Mayhew x priestshousekeeper!reader one shot.

➡️ read the entire work here.

18+ content below the cut MDNI.

You were supposed to go, but you couldn't move. You didn't want to.

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

You kept staring at him with bated breath, hoping that that show would last forever.

"Ah, fuck..." he groaned and you shuddered.

A shiver went straight to your core and you immediately felt the urge to clench your thighs together and hold back that unusual tickle you had never experienced in such a strong way before.

But it wasn't enough.

Forgive me, Father... you thought. Your cheeks reddened with shame as the last piece of reason faded away from you at the exact moment your right hand went straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it had been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaked between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

English is not my first language, I’m currently translating this from Italian so please be kind with me, i’m sorry for any inaccuracies😭🙏🏼 Leave a comment or lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag-list!

xx

[erajunex]

Currently thinking of a smut one shot (but i could also make it a series) about Father Charlie Mayhew from ‘Grotesquerie’ because i’m literally obsessed with Nicholas Alexander Chavez atm and he revived my desire to write. Should I post it??

I know there are billions of os about him but I’ll try to write something different I promise xx

[winxanity-ii]

I NEED MORE OF FATHER CHARLIEEEEE

currently writing a 2nd part for Sacrilegious Devotion cuz imma whore for praise and didn't know y'all was gon eat it up 😭😭😩❤️

sneek peek:

You gasped softly as you felt something blunt press against your clit, moving up and down your slit, the sensation different this time—firmer, hotter. You thought it was his fingers again, but then Charlie let out a soft sigh, a quiet, breathless "fuck" that made your eyes widen, the realization hitting you all at once. He wasn't using his fingers. It was him, the hard length of him brushing against you, spreading your slickness as he moved, the pressure making your head spin, your body growing even wetter at the sinful, blasphemous intimacy of it. His movements were slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to look away, to deny what was happening. But you couldn't—your gaze was trapped by his, your lips parted as soft whimpers escaped, the sound swallowed by the heavy air between you. Charlie's breath grew more ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Do you feel that, Sister? Do you see what you do to me?" His voice was thick with lust, his words a mixture of reverence and something far more depraved.