#demonic reader

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

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ONE

How tedious human life is. Not to offend anyone, but you were already tired of all the petty, complicated, and disjointed problems humans have. Not doing what they want, fearing consequences, and not always seeking to take advantage of others makes humans seem so weak. Humans need automobiles to move around, they have no special powers, they feel guilty of the slightest act, and when they sin, they believe a priest can purify their wrongdoings.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. At least that's what the movies say I should say when I enter a confessional. Unless you'd prefer something more modern, like, 'Father, I really messed up. I committed an affront to good morals. Blah blah blah…'" You enter Father Charlie Mayhew's confessional, waiting for his response. You can hear the muffled chuckle he lets out at your casual way of speaking.

"It doesn't seem to me that you are truly repentant. Taking advantage of the informality with which you are speaking to me, may I ask what brings you here?" For a human, he has a voice that, in its more serious and deep tone, can be charming; it's easy to understand why he became a priest. With a voice like that, he could easily persuade you to be a devoted daughter of God, even if you were, in truth, a demon.

“Let’s say it was a call of nature. In truth, I’ve felt impure ever since I witnessed something terrible.” You say, trying to sound as human as possible, feeling as if your skin were burning from being inside the church. Just kidding; in reality, demons can be anywhere, even in religious places.

"What is it, my dear faithful of the Lord, that you witnessed?" Father Mayhew speaks with a certain nonchalance, as if he's almost sure he knows your answer. You try to catch a glimpse of him through the confessional booth’s small openings. He seems like the very embodiment of sin, perfectly crafted for thirsty thoughts.

"Father, I witnessed a delightful scene. It was a priest known for his youthful appearance and modern style, masturbating while thinking about the beautiful nun he had recently met. In fact, there was another moment that I witnessed. The moment when this same priest let the nun touch him in a sinful way. Oh, this priest's mind could only hope that these private moments would continue." You provoke him, subtly revealing that you know of his most intimate sins. The priest immediately steps out of his booth and opens the door to yours. His expression is furious, while you wear your most mischievous smile. Your attire catches him off guard, certainly. You’re dressed in a nun's habit, but entirely unlike the usual. Yours is red—the color of blood—with black lace details. It is the perfect blend of religion and sin, a nun’s habit styled like lingerie.

"What are you?" the priest asks, not in fear, but with a steady gaze fixed on you. You rise and slowly walk toward him, your steps deliberate, as he retreats. You can see his eyes searching for answers, trying to comprehend what you are.

"I am merely a concerned devotee, worried about who is managing this church, of course. Father, it shouldn’t be me reminding you that sin is wrong. But I think you already know it’s wrong—you just can’t stop. If the wounds on your back tell me anything, it’s that you enjoy punishing yourself for being a naughty boy. Let’s just say I’m your newest form of penance." You speak as you circle around Father Mayhew, who watches you with a gaze of fascination. In truth, you had peeked into the mortal priest’s sinful mind, discovering exactly how to become an irresistible vision for him.

"Why are you tormenting me?" Father Mayhew keeps his eyes fixed on you as you walk through the church, surveying what is supposed to be sacred ground. It’s remarkable, entering the so-called house of God, where sins lurk behind the angelic façade, just as Father Mayhew hides his dark thoughts beneath his cassock. You smile as your fingers glide over the candles, feeling the warmth of their flames between your fingertips.

"Me? Tormenting you? I’m simply fascinated by that devilishly handsome face of yours and the way you blend love for religion with the lust locked away inside you. Sister Megan must have had quite the time running her little fingers over you. Honestly, you, Father, are trouble, and I want to help you." You speak, captivated by the lust in his eyes, even as he remains partly afraid that you might be a punishment from the devil himself. You move closer, touching his cassock, tracing your finger over the places where he is wounded, where he hurt himself.

"More…" he whispers, closing his eyes as he feels your touch. He begins to moan softly from the pain you’re inflicting. Your fingers tighten their grip on the bruises on his back as he groans heavily. You bring your lips closer to the back of his neck, placing a few kisses there.

"Father, Father, Father. You're visibly excited in the middle of the church. What would the Bishop say about this? Or your faithful and devoted followers, who trust that their priest will be the purest of men?" You speak softly against the back of his neck, feeling him shiver. He turns to look at you, eyes thirsty for the pleasure of the flesh.

"It doesn’t matter, not really. 1 John 1:9, 'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' God, in His glory, will understand that in the face of temptation, I could not resist my sinful nature, and for that, I have failed in His eyes." Father Mayhew speaks, his eyes lingering on every detail of your face, but especially your lips. In his depraved mind, he’s already imagining. Imagining how his cock would fit perfectly between your lips, or how your moans must be as delicious as the tone of your voice. He lets his imagination of touching you, tasting you take over and lightly places his fingers under your lips, massaging them.

"Father, you are a perfect creature, but you are trapped beneath this mask of a devout religious man. I promise I will return here to unlock your true potential. Until then, remain under the flame of lust. Oh, and keep recording those workout videos; you have no idea how many souls your face and body corrupt. Now, to seal our first encounter together, repeat after me: I, Father Charlie Mayhew, accept your demonic presence to torment me for as long as necessary, committing myself to serve you." You say, gazing deeply into his eyes, as he seems lost in you. It takes him a moment to repeat your words, his eyes lingering on your attire, contemplating the implications of becoming entangled with you.

"Was that all?" He asks after repeating your words, his tone low as if he’s embarrassed. "When will I see you again?" There’s a note of desperation in Father Mayhew's question, as he watches you, trying to memorize every detail. You smile, thinking that he probably wants to remember you so he can indulge in pleasure later.

I'm pretty sure you know the story. Everybody does. Chosen Hero, Demon King, they fight, save the day, yada yada. Everybody supposedly lives happily ever after. Everything sunshine and roses. Puppies and farting rainbows. But... but it's NOT.

It's really fucking NOT.

I used to love reading stories like that. They were escapism. Grand adventures in a terrible, grey, slowly crushing hellscape of a world. But... but, FUCK. At least there weren't drauger! No demon wolves or skeleton soldiers! Or the FUCKING little flying bastards. God. I HATE those ones the most.

They have sharp, needle-y little claws and teeth like a SHARK fucked a TREE THRESHER. And they scream. Just... yowl and yowl in this ear splitting high pitch like they're trying to DEAFEN you ON TOP of trying to rip you apart.

That life was peaceful.

I was a fool to wish for anything else.

I am not the Chosen One. I'm not even a supporting character. I remember this bullshit little yarn, and I? Am NO WHERE fucking in it. I am just... just some rando, in this struggle of demons and Gods. The child of Some Dude. We... we had chickens. Fat, happy, lil hens.

I remember being ENTRANCED. I had lived all my life, before, in suburban sprawl. So chickens? Strutting around and chasing bugs? Tiny me was hypnotized.

It saved my life.

I half wish it didn't, some days.

That I died, sudden and without the chance to truely comprehend, along side my family. That my neighbors eldest hadn't seen me by the coop. Grabbed me desperately as he ran for his life. Our entire FUCKING village...

There were six survivors.

I was one of them.

And it's... it's all just? FLAVOR TEXT for the Chosen One's tale of Glory. A reason for why she's so NEEDED. So BELOVED. Look how AWESOME she is! Saintess, because when are they NOT? Hero, because it's all about HER. A god damned LOVE STORY thrown in, because THAT'S important, while people are suffering! Dying!

Are? You? KIDDING ME!?

Legends speak of a "Hero's Party". I know damn well it's true. That it WILL succeed. But FUCK that. FUCK waiting for her to "be ready"! To gather allies and turn from some sheltered little rose, into the warrior we ACTUALLY NEED. It's my world too. I was the one who had to help dig out survivors! Tend to the wounded! Fight off swarms! Hold back the dead!

I...! I was the one who had to LOOK PEOPLE IN THE EYE and... AND-!

B-Because sometimes? SOMETIMES?! Those bites DON'T HEAL. Can't heal! They are filled with so much demonic power, that the only thing they CAN do is corrupt. Fester. Poison. Sometimes you're already DEAD and nothing short of the oh so precious SAINTESS could possibly save you.

But she's not HERE... is she?

So you have a choice.

*Whispers from the deep abyss of personal drafts* Hell fucking yeah

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Due to you being much more younger and more prone to gaming. I can see your character to have more of a monstrous form than a humanly look.

Ainz can now rest on having to spend money on your account, due to you doing multiple side jobs. Though, that doesn't let you escape of sharing your half of rent.

Your character is a demon; clad in a tattered yellow cloak with the hood always up, blocking any prying eyes from seeing your face. What it only peaks out is grey hair. Though the sleeve aren't long enough to cover your bandaged and shackled arms. In an ombre fashion, the arms are shown to go from black to blood red at the finger tips.

Though when unhooded, it's shown that your face is also pitch black. Your mouth is replaced with something more inhumane, having no teeth nor anything. Though it's capable of breaking and tearing through anything with such animalistic powers. Strange red substances dribble out, though nobody dares to try even touching it.

Your eyes is blindfolded, though when unraveled, it shows only a void where the sockets are. All oozing the same red substance that dribbles from the mouth. You have a long black tongue that oozes a stank smell when activated for fighting.

Your chest had an open hole, where your ribcage pops out in the flesh and where your spine could be shown. Where the heart is supposed to be lies a giant plasma ball. Though like Ainz's, it's indestructible.

Like the mom, you and Ainz have special perks when you have family members joining in the game. Unlike mother's rage, the two of you have now gained "Sibling's Rivalry."

When the two of you were transported into the new world, instead of spawning inside the Tomb with Ainz. You were spawned inside a cave, deep inside the forest where Hamsuke was at.

It took you a little while to get out of there, but you did it.

But it did took you long time getting your sense of perception because your sight has been replaced black and white outlines. You were tripping over multiple shit in the cave and the forest: trees, rocks, a lizard, a corpse, you name it. You were tripping everywhere.

Though despite your struggle of having a different sense of perception. You were able to detect life sources somewhere, but couldn't exactly pinpoint the direction it was coming from.

So, it caught you off guard when you "see" a giant hamster right in front of you doing a piss ass job of threatening you.

Thus the hilarity ensued when you activated your intimidation skill on Hamsuke.

So, you have now a hamster ride and a new roommate to sleep with. Though, you do enjoy the furry rat hamster's company. At least she'll be your guide around the forest.

Thus the two of you were dubbed the "The Wise King of the Forest" and "The Demonic Puppet," much to your annoyance. You're not a damn puppet that's for sure.

When Ainz heard about you and Hamsuke in the forest, he was highly interested in you. Rumors had it you were the supposed puppet/rider of "The Wise King of the Forest." So of course he wanted to either recruit you or to at least collect you like he was planning to do for Gazef

It was surprise when he finally noticed that it was his sister that was labeled as "The Demonic Puppet," but is relieved that he isn't lonely now

Breathes

That doesn't escape the fact you're now a gremlin

Might as well make you the prankster demon, because you do a shit ton of light hearted tricks

The classic plastic wrap on the doorways, replacing bombs with glitter dust, making swords break at the first contact before reconnecting all together again, toothpaste filling in Oreos/pastries, you get the drill.

Demiurge wants to experiment and study your red ooze that drips out and see its effect. You have now gained Demiurge's interest on studying you, especially your reasons to be shackled.

I would say that you're aren't specifically in the guide but is considered to be because of your connection and how frequently you've visit the guide.

Though, you can't gain a human look no matter how hard you can transform

As if you can actually transform lmaooooo

So, you are forced to wear a mask and lots of long sleeved shirts, bandages, long pants, your coat, and/or dresses when you go outside with Ainz and Nabe in E-Rantel. Though you can't seem to take off your shackles off you.

I can see you and Evileye being acquaintances in heroes term. Other than that, she sees you as a gateway on trying to hook up with Ainz/Momonga and an interesting person. A strong mage always hiding behind a mask like her.

Though unlike cosmic demon eldritch mama, you don't gain a following. The last thing you want is idiots trying to summon you, despite saying a very hard no on accepting their praises and begging.

There is times where you go onto a blood frenzy uncontrollably out of the blue that Ainz had to put Demiurge and Cocytus in charge in containing your blood frenzy. If it goes out of control, then Ainz would reluctantly WILL and HAVE to put you out for himself.

So when the war happened between the two kingdoms, when Ainz was making everyone thinking he was an actual fucking monster. They all should be fearing you. You. Go. Nuts. With. Full. Intent. of. Excitement. For. Blood. And. Fear.

Before the whole war even happened, you and Demiurge were setting up the battlefield with traps, hidden demons/beasts, hiding poison containers somewhere in the water supply that will open at a specific time, portals from hell, etc. You are on full intent of destroying the kingdom with all of your might.

Just hope they don't get inside [Death's Parade] ok? :)

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[Sibling's Rivalry] - Due to you having a connection with another player via email/phone number confirmation, you and your connector have now gained a new skill set [Sibling's Rivalry]. When in a 40 meter radius with your sibling, you have now gained an increase of 125% ATK speed, 45% AGILITY, and a 200+ MP boost.

[Blood Lust] - Every physical kill increases your ATK power by +15%. Maximum is +150% for 15 minuets. Though when passive, when not killing, the player will have a meter that will slowly goes up until 100%. If any kills hasn't occur,

[Death's Parade] - One time use, afterwards you must rest until [Death's Parade] can be used again. Upon use, within 75 meter radius of the caster shall turn into an arena. Those who inside the radius can not escape nor those outside the radius can join in. Multiple demonic summons and undead summons shall appear and will fight to the death to the players that are trapped inside. The arena will stay on until either the caster's MP reaches to 1 or the players inside the arena is dead. 145% ATK speed, 65% spell power, 145% casting speed.

[F. E. A. R] - Fear Energy Acid Radiation. Those who are not immune to the fear energy radiation or has consumed fear acid would now experience a multitude of nightmares and hallucinations until they have escaped the radiation or after 2 hours if digested. It is possible to die from [F. E. A. R].

[Tier 1/2/3 intimidation] - Tier 1 effects low leveled beings through 1 - 25. Tier 2 effects mid level beings through 25 - 75. Tier 3 effects higher level beings through 75 - 100. When under the intimidation, they will be frozen in fear for 10 minuets. Though if using a higher level fear on a lower level being it can have a lasting effect until turned off.

[Blood Cult Garbs] - 'Worship is meaningless when given prayers and offerings. What THEY need is blood to be spilled, screams to be heard, flesh being wounded!' 195% spell power, 145% casting speed

[Sacrificial blade] - 'This is a gift from the Gods...' A blade that has already taken the lives of many unbelievers and its willingly followers. Though it has been unwashed over the years of use. 175% life leech, status: bleeding, status: hemorrhage, status: infected

[Status: Holy Imprisoned] - Due the angelic shackles containing your sins, you have been now suppressed of demonic urges and have now gained morality and emotions. Though the older the shackles are, the harder it will stop the demonic urges and sins seizing through. Every time a demonic ability/spell has been mustered, the host will go through intense pain that will take 25% of their health, but will never go down to 0. -250% holy damage resistance, demonic damage nullified, status: imprisoned, -110% casting speed [Holy Imprisoned is inflicted by Angelic species that is the same level or higher than the host. Can be effected again.]

THE PRIEST

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ONE

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FINAL

THE DOCTOR

HAUNTED

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BACK TO BLACK

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NICHOLAS CHAVEZ

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BABYBOY

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Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. So, dear readers, I must say I didn’t expect to write more than one chapter for this fanfic. But here we are now at the third chapter. I’d love to know if you’d like more chapters or if you’re satisfied so far. Depending on how this chapter performs, I’ll bring you more sinful priest content. I’ve also been considering the possibility of writing another fanfic featuring Dr. Charlie Mayhew (those who follow Grotesquerie may already know him). If you’re interested, feel free to comment. Thank you to everyone who reads my fic. See you soon!

Content Warning: This chapter contains adult language as well as adult content.

TWO FOUR

THREE

"Free yourself from Father Mayhew, demon. There is nothing more pathetic than being emotionally involved with a mere sinful mortal. Kill him, soon." The message arrives in a self-destructing letter, signed by the dark master, as if it were meant to intimidate you. You let out a laugh, dismissing the threat with a wave of your hand. You’ll part with your priest when you choose, not even Satan himself will sway your decision. The warm water envelops you, fragrant bubbles rising around you as you sip your wine, savoring the luxurious moment. It’s a reminder of your power, of the pleasures you can indulge in. As the warmth seeps into your bones, you can’t help but think of Father Mayhew, his struggles, and the delicious chaos you’ve woven into his life. This game has only just begun.

Until his voice fills the space, your priest is calling out for you. “Forgive me, Father, but I wish to continue sinning. I miss the demonic essence of the sinful creature that invades my mind every morning and night. I will not deceive you; I want that demon for myself, just as I fear that I no longer belong to my Blessed God, but rather to her. She has infected me, like a disease. She inhabits my skin, as if she seeks to dominate me. If it is your will, quench the thirst I have for her lips. Erase the memory of her skin against mine, but I implore you, Almighty God, bring her back to me.” You’ve avoided him for days since your last encounter, as it should be. Otherwise, it would seem like you are taking his side, sparing him from the consequences of his desires. The game continues, and you revel in the anticipation of his next move. Each prayer, each desperate plea only deepens your resolve, drawing you back into his world. The tension between sin and devotion creates a thrilling dynamic that you can’t ignore.

Suddenly, the taste of alcohol in your wine no longer intoxicates you. You crave the taste of him on your lips. He is not the only one feeling sick; you sense that he is infecting you as well. Resisting temptation is becoming nearly impossible. You step out of the bath, hair still damp, contemplating your next move. A red dress lies on your bed, paired with matching heels on the floor of your room. It is time to go and make a confession.

You slip into the dress, feeling the fabric hug your form perfectly, and the heels elevate your presence, transforming you into a vision of temptation. The mirror reflects a figure that embodies both allure and danger, a demon ready to weave her spell once more. You arrive at the church abruptly, using your powers to teleport to the entrance of the sacred space. The familiar scent of incense and polished wood surrounds you as you step inside, the heavy doors closing silently behind you.

The priest Mayhew stands before the altar, clad in leather pants that leave his butt exposed, as if he has emerged from the depths of the most sinful fantasy. He wears a sheer lace nightgown that accentuates his form, embodying an alluring mix of innocence and decadence. As he extinguishes the flickering candles, there is an air of temptation surrounding him, making the scene both captivating and provocative.

He hears the thunderous sound of the doors closing behind you, turning to look at you as if he’s about to melt under your gaze. A sly smile plays on your lips as you approach him slowly, without uttering a word. With each step you take toward him, he seems to lose his breath, anticipation palpable in the air. "Are you really here?" he whispers as you come to stand before him, his hand gripping the candle snuffer tightly.

You gaze at him from head to toe, using your powers to reignite all the candles once more. "The way you’re speaking, it sounds like you've been hallucinating about me, Father Mayhew," you say, bringing your face closer to his to murmur, "I prefer the flames lit, if you don't mind." Then, you gently take the candle snuffer from his trembling hands.

"I feared you’d never return, that I'd lost the chance to…" Father Mayhew begins, though he trails off, seeming entranced by your scent as he closes his eyes, breathing you in deeply. You toss the candle snuffer into a distant corner of the church, feeling the candlelight’s warmth casting a glow over your skin. "So much fear that you resorted to prayer to bring me closer?" you say, your words nearly brushing his lips. His eyes open, meeting yours, as if filled with something unsaid, struggling to form the words he dares not speak.

"I didn’t know who else to turn to, to have you near again. And talking to God is… well, what I do best, so I thought it was worth a try," Father Mayhew says, a trace of a seductive smile on his lips, unable to hide his excitement.

"Are you aware that your request was never heard by your God, but rather by a far lower realm? That's why I'm here." Your gaze remains serious as he processes this revelation, realization dawning in his eyes. His expression, rich with guilt and desire, compels you to place your hands on his face, your thumbs tracing the edges of his lips, soft against his skin. His eyes drift shut as he leans into your touch, surrendering to the moment.

"I feel as though, to see you again, I’d set this place ablaze until nothing but ashes remained, demon. I wasn’t joking when I said you were infecting me," Father Mayhew’s voice is low, gravelly, as though he desperately wants you to understand his sincerity. When he opens his eyes, it’s as if he’s allowing you to glimpse the turmoil inside him, a fragile resolve on the brink of surrender. You lean towards him, licking between his lips.

"Let me be your faith, your cure; I promise, Father, I’ll show you how serving a darker purpose can be… fulfilling," you murmur, brushing a brief, enticing kiss over his lips. His eyelids flutter weakly, as if each blink is his attempt to convince himself this is real. Suddenly, you feel his strong arm around your waist, drawing you close until you're pressed against him, his breath warm and heavy against your neck. The sweet scent of him fills your senses, leaving no doubt of his surrender as he pulls you into this forbidden embrace.

"Take me as yours, sinner. Possess me, demon. I've wanted to know what it is to belong to you since the moment you set foot in my church," Father Mayhew breathes, closing the distance between you with no hesitation. His lips find yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue tracing over yours as if to claim you entirely, the intensity of his need nearly overwhelming. It’s as if, in this moment, he truly believes you both could merge into one, the heat of it igniting between you in an almost unbearable way. You're almost impatient, you need to feel him. It seems for a moment that he understands this, as he He lifts you up with his arms, you leaning on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips still against yours as he carries you to one of the church benches. He sits down, positioning you on his lap. His hands make their way inside your dress, and yes, he holds your ass firmly.

"Father, I have sinned. I believe there is a suitable punishment for me so that I may be forgiven." You speak in a sly way as if to provoke him, seeing Father Mayhew's eyes darker, with a slight air of perversion. He grabs your ass tightly, moaning close to your ear as your pussy rubs lightly under his cock. You pull his hand towards you, removing it from your ass, and licking two of his fingers. You taste Father Mayhew's fingers while keeping your gaze fixed on him. You then guide his fingers inside your pussy. As soon as his cold fingers enter you, you let out a moan, still holding his hand to go deeper into your pussy.

"Tell me what punishment you think is appropriate for a nefarious sinner like you. Show repentance and you will be forgiven,"Father Mayhew is sticking his fingers deep inside you, who were slowly losing your sanity. Sometimes you rolled over Father Mayhew's fingers hoping to feel him even deeper inside you. The speed at which his fingers were fucking you was supernatural, you could feel how hard Father Mayhew's cock was getting just from you bouncing under his fingers. His available hand was helping you with the movements, helping you arch your body more while holding your waist. Your hands at that moment were wrapped around his shoulders, almost grabbing his neck. At some point when his fingers entered faster, you almost let out a groan, pulling Father Mayhew's hair back, leaving his neck arched in front of you. You reached down to the exposed area of his neck and took hold of it, biting down hard as Father Mayhew continued to finger fuck you. He let out a low moan that sounded like he was enjoying the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

In an erotic way, he murmurs "You can taste my blood and satisfy all my desires, demon." It's like he's giving himself more and more to you, which makes you even more horny for him. Bobbing up and down on his fingers with an animalistic ferocity, you feel Father Mayhew's skin cut into your mouth as you sink your teeth into his neck. The sweet taste of his blood fills your mouth, at times like these, you wish you were a vampire and drank all the warm blood of your sweet Father Mayhew.

"Father Mayhew, if I could explain to you what it feels like to take you in this way, rest assured, all the demons would be lining up to taste it." You say pushing yourself even harder against Father Mayhew's fingers until he begins to gently massage your clit while fingering you. You find yourself moaning out countless curse words as you hold onto Father Mayhew until you cum all over his fingers. Your satisfaction is so great that you immediately capture his lips with yours in a breathtaking kiss. For a moment it seems like you're battling to see who can leave the other breathless. His tongue exploring every part of your mouth while his fingers are still buried in your pussy. The taste of his blood that was in your mouth becoming predominant, making the kiss even wilder. As soon as his lips leave yours, you feel a desperation for more. He removes his fingers from inside you and, keeping his gaze fixed on you, licks his fingers covered in your cum.

"You may be a demonic creature but you taste heavenly, demon." He murmurs close to your ear as he finishes tasting you. You hold his face in your hands and then give him a kiss, more calmly. You pull yourself out of his lap between kisses, heading towards the lit candles. Father Mayhew quickly removes his garment, throwing his clothes on the church floor. You slowly walk towards him with the candle in your hands, feeling the heat of it warming your hand. He is naked, with an erect cock.

"You know, Father Mayhew, one of the best parts about being involved with a demon is the countless ways you can explore new experiences," you whisper, settling into your Father Mayhew's lap. Since you came to church without panties, as soon as you sit on him, his cock enters your wet pussy, almost sliding inside it. You both moan from the delicious sensation of feeling each other.

"Let's see if you like this one..." You say, giving him a long kiss, feeling him completely surrendered to you. Holding the lit candle under his neck, as the candle melts, burning Father Mayhew's skin, you hear him let out a pained grunt. He lifts his face towards you, holding tightly onto your waist as he feels the pain. You're enjoying yourself, but as soon as the candle melts once more, you run your tongue over the parts of his body that the candle hurt. He shivers at the sensation of your tongue moving from his neck to his chest but seems relieved when the pain subsides.

"You will be the death of me, demon." Father Mayhew speaks and then kisses you aggressively, as if he is thirsty for your lips. He bites your lip as he kisses you, as if he wants to return the pain you caused him in such an erotic way. You then grind under his cock, making him throw his head back with the pleasure of feeling his cock entering your pussy even further. It's delicious to see him lost in lust, so you start to move up and down on his cock. He holds his arms around your waist as if he is holding you to him while you ride his cock almost madly. His moans make you almost overflow with pleasure as you ride his cock like you're riding a horse. Father Mayhew at one point removes his hands from your waist and tears your dress with his hands, right at the neckline. Your breasts are on display, which seems to be his goal. He puts his hands around your breasts, pinching the tips of your nipples. You let out a drawn-out moan as you feel his cock filling you and the delicious sensation of his hands stimulating your breasts. His lips begin to bite one of your breasts, sometimes biting the nipple, sometimes sucking. The feeling of his tongue on your skin is devilishly delicious, his soft lips delighting in your breasts, while he starts licking the other breast while stimulating the other with his fingers. The rhythm of your bouncing on his cock increases as you feel yourself coming again and you want to give Father Mayhew the same feeling. Your pussy is taking Father Mayhew's cock so well that it doesn't take long before you both cum, moaning loudly as his cum finally fills you. For a second you both stare at each other, breathless and surrendered to each other. He smirks as he stands up from the church pew, his cock still inside you, carrying you with him.

"Blow out the candles, demon," he whispers close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Using your powers, you blow out the candles, only for Father Mayhew to throw the candles along with other religious items that were under a table onto the floor.

"What are you doing, Father Mayhew?" you ask, genuinely wondering what he wants. He rests your ass on the table, using it as support to then put his cock in you, with more precision. He slowly thrusts his cock into your pussy while holding your legs so you don't fall. His nails scratching all the way from your feet to your thighs. You grip his hair tightly, pulling it back as Father Mayhew begins to pick up speed in his thrusts.

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

ONE THREE

TWO

The man knelt before you, pleading for more time. He tried to bargain, claiming he was on the verge of creating a scheme that would corrupt countless souls for you.

"My dear, don’t waste your breath. Our pact was sealed long ago; I used you for the purposes I desired, and now Satan wants your soul. It’s quite simple—it won’t even hurt. It was pleasurable while it lasted, wasn’t it? I gave you every sinful delight imaginable. Now, it’s time to pay the price," you murmur as you crouch down to speak face to face. The man, now sobbing, desperate to avoid death, shakily points a gun at you. His hand trembles as he aims it at your face, and you can’t help but find it almost endearing that he’s so determined to live.

"It wasn’t going to hurt. I wasn’t planning to harm you—I was going to leave that to the demon in charge of your soul down in Hell. But you’ve just lost that privilege," you say, your voice calm as the man frantically throws objects at you, screaming for help. And then you touch him and immediately he catches fire. The flames cover his entire body, as he agonizes and screams in pain, almost roaring for help. When you get bored of seeing a man like that, you touch him again; and it's as if he had never been burned.

"What have you done to me, you demon?" he yells, charging at you like a raging bull, which only makes you laugh.

"I gave you a little preview of your future, darling. Now, brace yourself for your next adventure." You mockingly reply, and before he can reach you, you make him vanish, sending him to his rightful place. Being a demon certainly has its ups and downs, but truthfully, you're growing weary of it all.

Perhaps it’s a good time to visit your favorite priest for confession. It's been a week since you last made contact. You slip into a red lace lingerie set and throw a black coat over it. Naturally, you can’t forget your rosary—it’s essential for keeping appearances. With a final touch, you teleport to Father Charlie Mayhew’s location.

You appear in his room, where he’s half-naked, engaging in self-flagellation while reciting scripture. "Ephesians 6:11: 'Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes,'” he says, inflicting pain upon himself, still unaware of your presence. His back was covered in cut marks, bleeding everywhere, his eyes closed as he felt the pain rack his flesh.

“Father Mayhew, need some help? There are parts of your back that remain untouched,” you say, catching him off guard. Leaning casually against a piece of furniture near a crucifix on the wall, you smile wickedly as he jumps in shock. The towel wrapped around him nearly slips, the only thing keeping him covered. Your eyes glint with amusement, knowing you’ve disrupted his supposed sanctity once again.

"Are you really here?" Father Mayhew asks, standing up, now nearly face to face with you. His gaze is intense, as though he had been thinking about you long before you appeared in his room. You move around the room slowly, admiring the details, your movements deliberate as you subtly encircle him, using your body language to create a sense of dominance. His eyes follow your every step, conflicted between fear and desire.

"How could I not be here, my dear Father, when you bring me such satisfaction?" you say, your voice laced with dark amusement. "I’ve heard you’ve kept your sinful habits, wishing only for my return. I believe you’ve earned a reward." Your fingers lightly trace over the fresh wounds on his back, sending shivers through him, eliciting a soft groan from his lips. His eyes stay locked on yours as you slowly remove your coat, revealing the red lace lingerie beneath, a sinful gift crafted solely for his eyes. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, the temptation too powerful to resist, his internal conflict laid bare in the silence between you.

"Galatians 5:16: 'So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh,'” Father Mayhew murmurs, moving closer to you, his eyes fixed on your chest, tracing every curve and detail of your body. If you weren’t a demon, his gaze might have made you feel shy.

“I’m usually the one who hears confessions, but I must confess to you... I longed to see you again, with a fervor far beyond what is permitted,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he stands mere inches from your face, as if yearning for a kiss, the tension between you palpable. You regard him with playful amusement, as if he were your favorite source of entertainment.

"Confess to me, Father. Show me what you desire, and prove what you're capable of," you say, your voice laced with a subtle challenge as your fingers brush against his chest. He inhales sharply at your touch, his eyes reflecting the battle between restraint and temptation. The air between you is thick with tension, and despite his struggle, you sense the pull of his desires growing stronger.

The priest kneels before you, gazing up as though seeking your blessing for survival. "Forgive me, in all Your glory, Lord. For I am devoted to You and should turn away from sinful desires, striving to be a good man," he says, yet his eyes remain fixed on you, laden with a sinful intensity. It’s as though his words are meant for God, but his confession is entirely yours. The feeling of power surges through you. Your hands glide over his face, which now seems to exude a wickedly sinful allure. Your fingers lightly trace his full lips, the touch both tender and commanding.

"You must be devoted to me as well. Embrace your darker side, Father. Do not hide it behind your robes. Accept who you truly are," you whisper, your hand gliding along his neck as his head tilts back, eyes wide and fixed on you.

"And who am I, demon?" Father Mayhew asks, his voice trembling slightly, as if he genuinely seeks the answer. His gaze is locked on you, watching intently as you kneel before him, the tension between his devotion and his desire thick in the air.

"You are mine. You belong to me—not only your body, but your soul as well. Punish yourself as much as you wish, but never forget, it is I whom you must worship and fear," you whisper softly, standing before him, your presence enveloping him. The weight of your words lingers in the air, both a command and a promise, as his gaze remains locked on yours, torn between submission and resistance.

"For the love of God, you are the most tempting creature I have ever encountered. How am I to remain pure in your presence?" Father Mayhew exclaims, his voice filled with helplessness as he gazes at you, nearly unraveling before you.

"Father, you're taking the Lord's name in vain... what a naughty boy," you respond with a playful laugh, lowering yourself slightly to kiss his neck. His body shudders under your touch, a wave of tension and desire sweeping through him as your lips brush his skin. Then his fingers trail down to the underside of your lingerie. You lift yourself up a little to help him touch your pussy over your lingerie, biting your lip when you feel his cold fingers touch there. It doesn't take long for him to tear the fabric and finally massage your wet pussy, making you moan softly. His fingers touching you, gently massaging your clit as you touch his strong arms, encouraging him to continue fingering you.

"Say that you are mine as well, demon. Tell me that you are under the spell of what I do to you. Beg me for forgiveness," Father Mayhew demands, his voice taking on a more assertive tone, as if he wishes for you to confess your own sinful desire.

You move toward him, pulling him close, and without hesitation, your lips meet his in a heated kiss. It’s a battle of passion, a wordless exchange of defiance and submission. Neither of you yields, tongues entwining in a struggle for dominance, each unwilling to surrender to the other.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you moan against his lips, the words flowing like a dark and twisted prayer, as if reciting a beautiful, forbidden verse.

"I forgive you..." he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as his lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. It's as if he needs the taste of you more than he needs to breathe, each movement of his mouth against yours betraying the battle within him, torn between what he knows is wrong and the temptation he can no longer resist. His hands caress your body, stopping at your thighs, and as he grabs them, you open your legs so he can penetrate you.

"Father Mayhew, are you there?" A woman's voice calls from outside, her knock firm against the door. You and Father Mayhew lock eyes, both silently exchanging glances that hold the weight of unspoken words. He knows your nature, the dangerous allure you carry, and in this moment, he acts on instinct. As he tries to compose himself, he quickly places his hand over your mouth, silencing any response that might expose you both. His expression is tense, a silent plea for discretion, as the tension in the room grows thick.

"Yes, Sister Megan. Do you need something? I'm just finishing getting ready," Father Mayhew calls out, his voice steady despite the situation. He glances at you, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. It’s clear that, though he might never openly admit it, he's waiting for whatever mischief you might stir. He craves it—your demonic influence, your unpredictable nature—and the subtle tension in the air reveals that he is far more enticed by the chaos you bring than he dares to acknowledge. You then use one hand to masturbate Father Mayhew, who moans in response to the sensation of your hand touching his cock, which is already covered in pre-cum. Your fingers running the length of Father Mayhew's cock as he closes his eyes feeling you touch him.

"I would love your opinion on an article I'm considering publishing. It's quite intriguing, I must admit. It discusses some recent murders that are likely related to the church. I thought we could discuss it over a meal," Sister Megan says, her enthusiasm palpable. Father Mayhew shuts his eyes tightly, his hand still covering your mouth as he stifles a few muffled groans. The tension in the room is thick, a stark contrast to Sister Megan’s casual demeanor, as he struggles to regain his composure, caught between his duty and the forbidden thrill of your presence.

"Wait for me at the church entrance... I will, I will be there in a few minu...tes, now please allow me to dress in silence," he stammers, urgency lacing his voice as he attempts to gather himself. His eyes flicker to yours, a mix of desire and desperation evident as he fights to maintain his composure while you continue to captivate him. Your hand closed around the contour of his cock, moving back and forth, sometimes touching the head of his cock. He is on the verge of cumming, one hand under your mouth, the other under your breast, squeezing your breast, causing you a pleasurable sensation.

"I'll be waiting for you, Father," Sister Megan says before leaving, her footsteps echoing in the silence. You couldn’t care less about her departure. The tension in the room escalates as you release your grip on him, locking eyes with the Padre. He removes his hand from your lips, frustration etched across his features.

"Why did you stop?" Father Mayhew asks, a sultry grunt escaping his lips, revealing his longing for your sweet touch. His gaze searches for you, desperate and yearning, as he grapples with the overwhelming desire you stir within him. The air crackles with unspoken words, the thrill of the forbidden intensifying the moment.

"Next time, give me more importance. Your attention must be entirely mine, just like your devotion, but right now, neither belongs to me. I'm sure you can call Sister Megan in here to assist you if you wish. Until our next encounter," you say, your tone tinged with irritation as you reprimand him with a piercing gaze.

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew

Author's Note: Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. So, dear readers, here’s the fourth chapter, and I’d like to know if you want this fanfic to continue or not. I’d also like to let you know that I’m writing another fanfic focused on Dr. Charlie Mayhew. If you enjoy this one, I’d love for you to check out the other as well. Let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments. Enjoy your reading!

Content Warning: This chapter contains adult language as well as adult content.

THREE FINAL

FOUR

There was something wrong with you, something dangerous. After indulging in the warmth of Father Mayhew's body, you should have felt satisfied. More than that, you should have killed him. But you didn’t. In truth, you are avoiding him again—this time because you know Satan will demand Father Mayhew's soul, and you are not ready to give it to him. Yet, as long as you remain entangled with the cursed priest, he will remain a target on the radar of countless demonic creatures. While you seduce other souls into corruption, you find yourself losing the appetite for any taste but that of your priest. Countless have tried to tempt you, but none have come close to the effect Charlie Mayhew has on you. This has never happened before, and it only tempts you to have him more and more.

At the moment, you’re watching him from a distance. He’s dressed in his cassock, speaking to his parishioners with a warm smile, as if your absence means nothing to him. Sister Megan is there too, her desire for him plain in her demeanor. Something simmers beneath your skin as you watch her—standing there, smiling, and speaking to him. And there you are, hidden like a pathetic human, waiting for him to sense your presence and beg for a taste of pleasure. You're in disguise—still wearing the same face, but draped in more conservative, religious attire, like a modest woman. You don’t approach Father Mayhew, merely sit on one of the benches at the back of the church. Your face is veiled, as though you were in mourning, shrouding your features in an air of mystery.

You rise from the bench, moving to leave the church alongside the other faithful when you hear, "Won't you come speak to me?" The voice of Father Mayhew echoes through the sanctuary, firm and resolute. He sounds assertive, his words carrying a weight that stills the murmurs of departing worshippers.

"It is not wise, Father Mayhew," you respond in a loud and steady tone. He knows it is you; his gaze is both hungry and self-assured. With a deliberate motion, he curls his fingers, beckoning you closer. Sister Megan watches intently from his side, her expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion, while the remaining congregation murmurs amongst themselves, speculating on the scene unfolding before them.

"Sister, would you kindly give us a moment?" Father Mayhew speaks in a polite yet firm tone, his eyes locked on Sister Megan. She murmurs something softly to him before turning to leave, saying, "May the peace of God be with your heart." As she walks past you, her gaze lingers briefly, a mixture of curiosity and caution, before she exits the church, leaving you alone with the priest.

"You should not have made our involvement so public," you say as the church doors close behind you, leaving the two of you alone. You remain still, your voice steady but laced with disapproval.

"You’ve been circling me for weeks, coming after me but never daring to approach," he retorts, his tone sharp and laced with frustration. "What is it? Am I no longer of interest to you? Then why have you been here all this time, just watching me?" His anger simmers as he steps closer, his movements deliberate, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of accusation and yearning.

"Your soul is mine. It is my duty to ensure that when the time comes, you are prepared to fulfill your part of the bargain," you say, your voice steady, unwavering. You remain rooted in place, watching him with a calm intensity that belies the turmoil beneath the surface. You remove the veil that was over your face to better face your Father Mayhew.

"I am a priest, you devilish creature. I can recognize a liar from a great distance. The strange thing is, you're a demon—you should be well-versed in deceit, in sinfulness. Yet here you stand before me, a woman terrified of her own feelings," he declares, stepping closer until he is directly in front of you. Before you can utter a response, his lips crash against yours with abrupt intensity. The world halts around you as his tongue claims yours, the kiss turning into a fierce battle for dominance, each of you striving to steal the other's breath away.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, breaking the kiss, but Father Mayhew’s lips remain dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t seem to hear you, his arm wrapping around your waist and lifting you effortlessly, pulling you even closer. You wrap your legs around his waist, whimpering against his mouth as you feel his cock begin to harden. He carries you to the church door, pressing your back against the door. His hands are firm on your thighs, while his lips return to take yours. His fingers enter the skirt of your dress, making their way to your pussy.

"If we shouldn't be doing this, why are you so wet for me?" Father Mayhew speaks while smirking, as he rips your panties off of you. His fingers pressed under your pussy, making you grunt as your hands touch his neck hard, you scratch his face a little as you feel his fingers enter you. He gently inserts his fingers into you, but his movements increase in speed. You moan, holding his arm tighter so he can stay inside you. Two fingers moving in and out of your pussy, with precision. He plays with his fingers as he tries to keep you upright, holding your ass tightly.

"I need you," you reveal, feeling yourself reaching your limit. He presses you even harder against the door. The strength with which he holds you entwined in his arms is overwhelming. It's like he understands what you want, that you want to feel his cock throbbing inside you. He then gives you space to lift his cassock, allowing you to drag his underwear down while he continues to hold you. When you and Father Mayhew are both stripped to your underwear, your eyes meet. The desire is palpable, It's like they're hypnotized by each other. That's the feeling I was so afraid of, a human feeling of wanting to belong. To belong to him. Your hands press on his ass guiding him forward, and with one movement he captures your lips in a slow kiss as he puts his cock inside your pussy.

"I don’t want to spend another minute anywhere that isn’t with you," he murmurs near your ear, as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure. "There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t belong to you," he says as he thrusts harder into you, as if he were showing his passion. You feel him so deep inside you that you can only moan, feeling the purest pleasure. As he thrusts his cock into you, you pull his hair back and then bite his neck. An animalistic instinct took over you, you needed to taste his blood, his skin. You grab him by the butt, squeezing his buttocks and increasing your proximity. He smiles as if he likes the feel of your hands on him and then he kisses you. His mouth is still stained with some of his blood. His thrusts inside you are even more constant, your legs getting weak from holding onto his waist so you don't fall. You feel your pussy tighten around Father Mayhew's cock as you feel like you're going to cum, putting your arms around his neck. His cock going in and out faster and faster, with force, in the lack of delicacy lies his desire to bury himself in you. You can feel him cum inside you, the warm liquid running down between your legs as he keeps thrusting his cock into you. You are so wet that his cock enters easily while you feel that your pussy is already sensitive enough to feel your orgasm coming. As you cum, squeezing Father Mayhew's shoulders tightly, you nibble on his ear as you melt into his arms.

As you and Father Mayhew compose yourselves, he gently helps you lower your legs from around his waist, steadying you as you cling to him. He places a tender kiss on your forehead, then another on your cheek, his lips brushing across your face as though savoring every moment. "Do not dare to disappear again," he whispers, his voice laced with both longing and command, kissing you as though each touch could anchor you to him. There’s a subtle shift in his touch—what began as lust transforms into something deeper, stronger, almost unspoken. But before you can form a response, a horrific sight unfolds. Blood sprays from Father Mayhew's mouth, his eyes widening in shock as he falters before you.

You turn swiftly, your gaze locking onto the demon standing in the center of the church, a sinister grin stretched across its face. Its amusement only fuels your growing rage. Without hesitation, you summon your powers, vanishing from your spot and reappearing behind the demon in an instant.

The creature chuckles darkly, its voice a mocking drawl. "You can kill me, but there will be others like me, coming for your precious Father Mayhew." It attempts to manipulate you, its words dripping with malice. But before it can finish its threat, you act decisively, tearing apart the demonic soul of the demon in front of him. The demon chars and turns to ash in front of you.

Your attention shifts immediately to Father Mayhew, who crumples against the altar, blood still spilling from his lips. Panic and fury swirl within you, but you know hesitation will only worsen his condition. You rush to him, cradling his face as his breaths grow shallow.

For the first time, you prepare to attempt something unheard of. Without second-guessing, you make a small incision along your arm, the crimson blood welling up almost instantly. You bring it to his lips, gently parting them and letting a single drop of your blood slide into his mouth.

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew

Author's Note: Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. So, dear readers, we’ve reached the end of the fanfiction featuring Father Mayhew. I hope you enjoy this final chapter and share your thoughts on it. Who knows—there might be surprises in the future. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read. I’d also like to let you know that I’m writing another fanfic focused on Dr. Charlie Mayhew. If you enjoy this one, I’d love for you to check out the other as well. Enjoy your reading!

Content Warning: This chapter contains adult language as well as violence content.

FOUR

FINAL

A gentle breeze, like the calm before a storm, sweeps through the familiar church as you step into its sacred walls. Draped in an opulent blood-red dress, its hue rivaling the very essence of life, your loose hair cascades over your shoulders, framing the elegance of your presence. Today marks a day of reckoning—no more games, no more delays. It is time to heed the infernal call and fulfill your purpose. As you enter the church, Father Mayhew commands the altar, delivering his impassioned sermon.

"Sin is the impurity of the soul. As His children, basking in His glory, we must purge this impurity to ascend to the heavens when the time comes," his deep, resonant voice fills the room, arresting the congregation's attention. But as your steps echo against the stone floor, every pair of eyes shifts to you. With deliberate grace, you approach the altar, stopping only when you stand beneath him. His gaze meets yours, darkening with unspoken tension. Slowly, you sink to your knees, a theatrical display of humility before him.

"What brings you here?" he asks in a commanding tone, his eyes never leaving you. Kneeling, you clutch a rosary to your chest, its beads trembling between your fingers. The folds of your dress pool around you like spilled ink, accentuating your penitence.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you begin, your voice heavy with feigned remorse. "Weakened by temptation, I succumbed to the sin of carnal passion. I seek purification, your forgiveness, and guidance." Father Mayhew descends from the altar with the deliberate grace of a performer, a chalice glinting in his hand. A discreet wink flashes from his dark eyes, too quick for the murmuring congregation to notice. To them, this is a divine purification, a moment of redemption. But to you, it is a game far more intricate.

The whispers swirl around you—speculations of your vulgar dress, your brazen display, and the state of your condemned soul. He halts before you, towering above, the chalice gleaming like a sacred artifact.

"Drink from the holy chalice," he intones, his voice a blend of sanctity and something far more dangerous. "This blessed wine, bestowed by Christ in His greatness, purifies the unclean and restores the soul's purity." With a firm hand, he tilts your chin upward, his fingers grazing your skin in a deliberate, intimate gesture. Slowly, he presses the rim of the chalice to your lips, guiding the rich liquid into your mouth. The wine, potent and exquisite, cascades down your throat, its refined taste masking the raw burn of alcohol. For a fleeting moment, the thought of biting his hand crosses your mind, but you suppress it, savoring the duality of his ritual—sacred in the eyes of the church, profane in the depths of your shared understanding.

Your gaze locks onto Father Mayhew’s, a devilishly satisfied expression playing across your face, reveling in the performance unfolding before the congregation. "Behold," he declares, his voice resounding with fervor, "the soul of this woman, once perhaps condemned, now finds hope for salvation. Take from the chalice—a single sip is enough to sanctify your soul."

With a flourish, Father Mayhew rises and moves among the congregation, offering the chalice to each member. They drink, unaware of the storm brewing in the shadow of their devout ritual. Meanwhile, you remain kneeling on the cold stone floor, the epitome of pious submission, awaiting the perfect moment for the spectacle to begin.

The coughing starts as faint murmurs—a few restrained, awkward splutters. But soon, the sound swells into a symphony of chaos as one by one, the faithful are overcome by uncontrollable fits of hacking. You know then that the moment has arrived.

Father Mayhew pauses mid-stride, his eyes darting to yours. He turns back, extending his hand toward you, palm open, commanding yet inviting. "Rise," his voice low but unyielding. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch even as the air grows heavy with panic. His grip tightens as he pulls you to your feet, his eyes scanning yours for confirmation, for assurance, as the cries of the afflicted fill the hallowed space. The show has begun.

"Dear sinners," you announce, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, dripping with mockery. "I must commend your dazzling efforts to reach your savior. Surely, He, who sees all, has observed just how miserably you have failed. Using your so-called 'faith' to justify the most diabolical of deeds—homophobia, murder, adultery, fraud—the list grows endlessly." You move fluidly among the writhing, coughing masses, their confusion and desperation palpable. Their wails fill the church as they fail to comprehend the calamity that has befallen them. Father Mayhew follows close behind you, his presence looming like a vigilant hound, his dark gaze fixed on your every move.

"Allow me to enlighten you," you continue, a wicked grin curling your lips. "Rest assured, there is no need for worry. A mighty being, nearly as divine as God Himself, awaits you. Embrace yourselves, for the journey will be warm." You laugh, a sound sharp and cutting, as the crowd erupts into a panicked frenzy, some scrambling for the doors in vain.

Suddenly, a man charges toward you, his face contorted with rage, a knife glinting in his hand. "You vile bitch!" he screams, plunging the blade deep into your stomach. You look down at the knife and then at him, your expression alight with amusement. A dark chuckle escapes your lips as you pull the blade from your body, the wound knitting itself closed almost instantly. Father Mayhew steps forward, seizing the knife from your hand with a deadly calm. Without hesitation, he drives it into the man’s chest, piercing his heart. The assailant crumples lifelessly to the ground at your feet.

The church grows quieter for a moment, save for the rasping breaths of the afflicted and the heavy silence of the dead. You turn to Father Mayhew, his stoic form now stained with blood, and a smirk dances on your lips. "Well, that was dramatic," you muse, as the chaos around you continues to unfold.

"I believe I deserve a reward," Father Mayhew murmurs, resting his head against your shoulder. There’s a new edge to him, a boldness that had lain dormant until his contact with demonic blood awakened something delightfully wicked within him.

You turn to face him, your eyes gleaming with sly amusement. Slowly, you close the distance between you, claiming his lips in a fervent kiss. His response is immediate, his arms wrapping around you with an almost feral intensity. Amid the carnage of the dying and the dead, surrounded by the desecrated sanctity of the church, the two of you merge in an act both simple and profound. The holy walls bear witness as sacred ground becomes the stage for a kiss that binds you and Father Mayhew, a moment as forbidden as it is intoxicating. The kiss continues, escalating to inhuman heights. Father Mayhew bites down on your lower lip with unrestrained hunger, his insatiable thirst ignited ever since he tasted your blood. You indulge him, using your sharpened nail to cut a shallow line across your wrist, offering the crimson essence to him.

With a sensuous pause, he breaks the kiss, his lips descending to your wrist as he drinks deeply. The fervor in his eyes is almost feral, but when he finally pulls back, he presses a reverent kiss to the wound. In moments, your skin knits itself back together, leaving no trace of the offering. He straightens before you, his hands cradling your face with a touch that feels both tender and possessive. You lose yourself momentarily in the intensity of his gaze, in the intoxicating dichotomy of the man who stands against both heaven and hell at your side.

"We must leave, my angelic Father Mayhew," you murmur, leaning into his touch. By renouncing God to follow you, Father Mayhew has cast aside his blind faith, surrendering his body and soul to you. In turn, by killing a demon and perhaps transforming your beloved priest into something half-demonic without Satan's permission, you have rebelled against the infernal order itself. But as the saying goes: "If you're in hell, embrace the devil."

"It is all ready, my beloved demonic creature," he replies, kissing your hand with an air of dark devotion. Together, you set the church ablaze, the inferno consuming its walls and its congregation. The flames roar as if fueled by divine and infernal fury alike, the collected souls strengthening you while denying both heaven and hell their claim.

Standing by the stolen car, you both watch the flames dance in the night, their light reflecting in your eyes as the once-holy structure collapses. This is but the beginning. With Mayhew by your side, you set your sights on spreading chaos and destruction across the world, a defiant force of forbidden union.