#nun reader

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.

It was one of those days when they were between cases and were stuck doing household tasks at the bunker. Laundry was being sorted and distributed or into the washer/dryer. Y/N talked Dean into helping her with laundry, so she designated him to hang some of the lesser used disguises into the spare closet in the laundry room.

When Y/N didn’t hear the shuffling of the hangers and random polyester garments she turned to see what Dean was up to. She noticed how he had stopped mid hang and was rubbing the arm of her nun outfit in between his fingers.

“You ok there baby?” Y/N asked, folding another shirt adding to Sam’s pile.

“Just haven’t seen this one in a while. That’s all.” Dean replied and finished hanging what he was holding.

Y/N just made a mental note and returned to her folding of undershirts. Putting the information away for a later arrangement she would make.

~~~

A few weeks passed and Dean was set to arrive back at the bunker after leaving for a hunt to help a fellow hunter with a small vampire nest. Y/N was buzzing because she was waiting to pull this fantasy out of her arsenal and see what Dean would think.

She took her time dolling up, the extended shower routine, layering her lotions and body sprays to get her scent just right for Dean. Applying her makeup a certain way because she wanted it to get ruined, and finally pulling out the final surprise for Dean under the whole innocent act-her dark crimson silky lingerie with the black edging. Not only did she love the way it felt and the way it looked but Dean would lose brain function and go incoherent when she would wear this set for him.

She played with the different ways the panties would sit with the garter belt, finally settling on excluding them altogether. She got the bra to lay nicely and then focused on settling the stockings before securing the garter belt around her waist and clipping the stockings to it. Happy with how this was looking she pulled on the nun gown, then the habit and modest heels. She added the final touches of a simple cross necklace as well as a rope around her waist.

She couldn’t wait to see Dean’s reaction but she also knew she didn’t want to scar Sammy more with their antics and affections. So she made a beeline for the library to find Sam sitting at one of the tables and scrolling on his laptop.

“Hey Sammy, if I give you some cash will you fuck off for a little bit? Go get something to eat or see a movie?” Y/N asked, fiddling with her hands a bit.

Sam looked up, saw her whole outfit and just sighed deeply before shoving his palms into his eyes. Closing his laptop and standing.

“You owe me.” Was all he said getting out of the desk area and walking past her.

She just smiled at him as he walked by and he gave her a brotherly eye roll and smirk.

“I left money on your driver's seat! Thank you!” Y/N called out down the hallway to him.

He gave a thumbs up and kept walking away from her.

Y/N made her way back to her shared room with Dean and sat on the bed to wait until Dean got home to see what he wanted to do. Which didn’t end up being long because he came busting through the door scaring Y/N shitless. Making her grasp her chest to try and calm herself.

“Jesus Dean! Warn a girl next time!” Y/N said exasperated.

“Sorry Baby didn’t expect you to be waiting here.” Dean answered, setting his bag down before walking to stand in front of her.

“Wanna role play? I’ll be the innocent nun and you play the sexy parishioner who gets me to be adulterous?” Y/N asked, looking up at Dean with the most innocent look she could conjure.

Dean didn’t even reply, his face morphed from surprise to incredibly turned on. He contemplated her question for a minute before fully embracing it.

“Well then Sister, do we need to have a discussion about your adulterous behaviors?” Dean asked as he backed up to sit in his desk chair.

“Yes please, I may need you to punish me too. I’ve been having some very adulterous thoughts about you and how I want you to touch me.” Y/N said, playing into her innocent act.

“How do you want me to touch you?” Dean asked.

“I want you to strip me down and then touch my pussy. But I think I need you to spank me for being a sinner.” Y/N answered.

“Oh ok.” Dean said, getting up to pull Y/N to her feet.

He untied the rope around her waist, dropping that to the floor. He kneeled to take her heels off, and as he stood he pulled the gown up and over her head. Her habit getting tangled in all of it and having to quickly find the Bobby pins to pull out.

All of it fell to the floor and Dean took a step back, noticing the silky red fabric that hugged her breast and waist. His face turned to elation as soon as he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties.

He sat on the bed and lifted a hand out to her. Y/N hesitated but then grabbed his hand and laid across his lap, her ass slightly arched up for Dean. His large palm gave a small slap before grabbing a handful. Y/N bit her lip anticipating what was to come.

He unclipped the garter belt from the stockings, pulling the clips away from Y/N’s cheeks. She clenched around nothing, already aroused from the anticipation. Dean roughly grabbed a cheek, then gave a harsh slap before massaging the stinging cheek.

He continued the pattern before switching up to three short smacks to each cheek. Y/N was almost to the point of praying because of how good he was making her feel from just spanking and caring for her ass. Dean was just massaging her cheeks making Y/N moan out wantonly before burying her face into the mattress. He then traced his middle two fingers down to her hot core, finding her almost dripping with arousal.

He sank the digits into her, causing her walls to flutter around his fingers. Dean curled his fingers into the spongy part of her pussy. Y/N bucked her hips trying to get him to finger fuck her pussy faster. But Dean just tsked at her and continued to just curl and uncurl his fingers slowly before adding his thumb to circle her clit. Y/N threw her head back and then tried to smother herself further

into the bed below.

Y/N tried to grind down again, brushing against the stiff tent that formed in Dean’s jeans. He tsked her again and removed his hand completely from her, she whimpered at the loss of contact and pleasure. Dean laid a hard smack across her ass cheeks making her hips falter and almost collapsing into his lap fully.

“You’ve been quite the sinner there sweetheart. Might as well fully embrace it?” Dean asked, continuing to massage her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t know what to do or how to. Are you willing to show me?” Y/N answered, looking over her shoulder innocently.

“Lay on the bed.” Was all Dean said, before clipping her stocking back to the garter.

Y/N scurried off his lap, leaning on her elbows in the center of the bed. Dean stood and started stripping himself down, his eyes never left Y/N. Even as he stumbled a bit kicking off his boots and jeans. He threw off his jacket, flannel layer and finally his form fitting navy shirt. Dean quickly pulled his briefs down and climbed up the bed to roll Y/N on top of him.

Y/N gasped, surprised by the rapid motion. Her hands landed onto Dean’s chest. She leaned forward, running her hands up to cup Dean’s face. Bringing her mouth down to his, their lips meeting in a clash of dominance. Her hips rolled against his, his dick slipping between her folds. His tip nudged her clit on the upward roll.

Dean flipped them over, pinning her beneath him with his hips. He bit her bottom lip causing him to win the fight against her.

“Fuck me please!” Y/N begged breathlessly.

“You begging for it sweetheart? You want it fast and rough or slow and sensual?” Dean asked, rolling his hips into hers.

“I want it fast and rough. I can’t wait any longer. Please!” Y/N said, her hands trailing down to his butt and grabbing fistfuls.

Dean just smiled at her, his hand moving between them to help align himself with her pussy. Nudging his tip in before sliding fully into her, their hips meeting as he bottomed out. She gasped out and arched her back. Enjoying the ecstasy of being filled by him. Her hands raking up and down his back, almost breaking skin with how rough she scratched.

Dean started to pull out before slamming back in, picking up a rhythm. Y/N joined in on his pace, matching each thrust helping bring them to their brink of ecstasy. Dean pulled out fully, grabbing her hips and flipping her over so her ass was in the air. He hooked a finger under one of the straps on the garter belt and let it snapback. Y/N hissed as the stinging sensation emanating out across her cheek.

Dean sank back into her pussy, not letting her recover fully from the elastic snap on her already red angry ass cheeks. Y/N released yet another absurdly wanton moan, not expecting Dean to know how to push her body's overstimulation and pleasure. Y/N sank her chest into the bed below her as Dean set a new brutal pace. The garter straps were rubbing against her cheeks, adding to the mix of pain and pleasure.

She felt Dean’s hand trail from her hip up to her throat, his body laying on top of hers to support her as he sat up. Cupping her jaw, he brought his mouth to hers as he slid his other hand to her pussy lips, spreading them to apply a delicious pressure to her clit. Dean connected their mouths finally so he could feel Y/N’s gasp. Her hands were landing wherever she could reach on Dean’s body.

He continued the torturous pace, feeling her pussy fluttering around his dick. He sped his fingers up slightly and applied more pressure. Wanting to send her to complete bliss before following over that edge.

“Oh god!” Y/N cried out.

Y/N’s entire body tightened, hitting her peak and crashing over. If Dean wasn’t holding her firmly against his body she would have collapsed and become one with the bed. Dean guided her body to do just that, covering with his own as he continued thrusting to help her through her orgasm and push him towards his own release.

Dean moaned into Y/N’s neck as he came, filling her pussy up with his cum. Y/N threw her head back onto his shoulder and moaned at the feeling. She would forever love and enjoy when he would give her a cream pie.

Neither of them tried to move as they caught their breath. Dean was relaxed against her back, not wanting to move because he didn’t want the sticky mess to spill out yet.

“So, uh-sister, did you enjoy your blasphemy and adultery?” Dean asked, his fingers tracing her bra straps.

“I don’t think I can go back to being a Sister after that.” Y/N replied.

“Thanks for indulging me sweetheart.” Dean said, laying kisses along her shoulder.

“You’re welcome Baby.” Y/N answered, grabbing his hand to lay a kiss on the back of it.

They laid there in their bliss for a bit, wanting to not only relax but also recover from all the stimulus. Dean was softened and slipped out, their mess spilling out and on to Y/N’s inner thigh. With how they were spooning it ended up making a trail onto the sheets below them, but there was no worries because the laundry was always done.

“Should we go wash away our sins love?” Y/N asked, patting Dean’s thigh.

He perked up and gathered her in his arms before jogging to the bathroom to shower.

—————

Tags: @bettystonewell @jollyhunter @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @maddie0101 @ambiguous-avery @my-stories-vault

-while you're out taking a walk through the convent lands, an injured snake is upon your path. The girls who are with you shriek and recoil but you hastily go to the poor creature

-you're scolded for touching a creature so vile as it is satans vessel but you hush them, wanting to help one of gods creatures.

-alone in your room later in the evening, you're tending to the snake. It's surprisingly gentle as you clean its slithery body in your small sink. You wrap a gentle cloth around the wound it has and gather it into a blanket so it can burrow and feel safe while hiding.

-after your evening prayer, you remove your main habits and slip into your nightly attire before moving into bed. As you sleep, you're completely unaware of the man watching you from across the room. He is shirtless and has his arms crossed while studying your form.

-you were gentle to his vessel, and piqued his interest. As he now stands over your bed, your body is only partially covered with the blanket. He can see your hardened nipples pushing up on the fabric of your top. He gently pulls the cloth up and eyes your breasts more, wanting to partake of their soft and supple beauty.

-he leans down and slowly licks across one of your nipples, letting the end of his tongue toy with the hardened bud for a moment. Before long he places his lips around it, sucking gently while letting his other hand toy with your other breast.

-your lips parted and a whimpering moan escaped as the man watched your still sleeping face while he continued to suck on your nipple and rub the other one under his clawed fingers.

-he watched as your hand came to your own breast, squeezing slightly as your body stirred in growing arousal. Your scent filled his nose and he smirked before running a hand under your blankets to between your legs. It didn't take long for him to find the dampness growing in your panties and he retracted his hand, bringing his fingers to his face to fully inhale your aroma.

-before he could do anything g further, your eyes fluttered open and you felt out of breath and flushed. Seeing your exposed self, you panicked and quickly sat up, trying to regain your decency. The man leaned back and rested his hands in his pockets while still watching.

-as you slipped out of bed, you felt your legs shake a little as a shudder of arousal crept through your being. You felt your own sin between your legs before immediately dropping to your knees in prayer of forgiveness.

-you were observed by the man you couldn't see, and a grin spread across his lips. He knew he wanted to defile something as pure as yourself. And this habit would soon begin.

-though you had let the snake go a couple days later, you kept seeing it on your evening walks. It would be sun bathing atop a stone to get the final heat of the day, and whenever you passed it, it would watch as you went by. You imagined it remembered you and your kindness, and it brought you joy, hoping it was healthy and happy.

-however each night, you were unaware of the man in your room, slowly furthering his exploration of your sleeping body. He's kissed and sucked your nipples, making them fiercely hard in the cool air. He's ran the pads of his fingers over your underwear, gently persuading your pussy to soak the cloth with arousal. Every little touch to your pure body made you uncontrollably writhe and sigh out in pleasure, only fueling this man's desire.

-each morning you awoke to find yourself in a bit of disarray, and each morning you collapsed to your knees in a prayer of mercy, begging forgiveness that your body was betraying you in the night.

-you didn't want to tell your abbess or a priest yet, hoping your prayer would take care of this situation swiftly. How embarrassing would it be to admit you had unholy desires as you slept?

-one night, you decided to tie a bit of string at both sides of your bed, and you hooked your wrists into them so they would be slightly restrained as you slept. Hopefully your hands would quickly give up on their damnable explorations of your body in the night. Your hands were committing such sin, and they needed to be held back.

-unfortunately, your secret watcher only grew more interested in your feeble attempt to keep your body pure in the night. Perhaps he would demonstrate why this plan was not going to work.

-he pulled the blankets down your body slowly, eyes watching your nipples harden under your thin shirt, as if they’re expecting what’s to come. Your hands twitched in their restraints, but otherwise you stayed still.

His weight came onto the bed, making you momentarily sigh out from being disturbed. Sleep was trying to leave you, and your head was a fog of drowsiness and confusion when you felt warmth between your legs. You lifted your head and groggily looked down your body, realizing your blanket was removed. You saw nothing else but suddenly let out a yelp when something warm and wet pushed against your underwear.

-your head snapped to attention, yet you saw nothing. Nothing was there. However, the wet and warm sensation pressed through your underwear again, as if someone were licking the cloth. Before you could pull your hands out of the restraints, the pressure gathered to your clit, and you sucked in a breath while nipping your bottom lip. What was happening?? Were you dreaming?

-your hands unintentionally held onto the restraints, unable to move them between your legs to stop whatever was happening. Almost like you didn't want it to stop...

It didn't last long, and once the pressure disappeared, you whimpered and panted, closing your eyes tightly in an attempt to control your thoughts and feelings. Whatever it was that touched you, was no where to be seen.

-the next day, you were shaken up and fumbling through your tasks and prayers. The memory of the feeling was fading throughout the day, and though you pretended to be glad for it, a part of you desperately clung to that sensation.

-as you went to bed again, you stared up to the ceiling that was barely illuminated by your bedside candle. Would it happen again? "Keep my body free of sin, for I am a bride of Christ." You announced to no one, completely unaware of your admirer already at the end of your bed. Waiting was no problem for him, and once you finally slipped into a deep rest, he began his nightly routine.

-by the end of the week, you were so embarrassed to be around the other nuns and even being in church service where you faced the judgment of god. You shamefully walked the grounds with your body that betrayed you, wondering when, or if, you should tell anyone. Clearly, you were fornicating with your own self through the night. A disgusting sin that you desperately begged repentance for.

-you're cleansing yourself one evening in the bathrooms, pouring water atop your body and praying for strength to overcome whatever burden you're going through. But you hear a chuckle in the dark corners of the bath, and you look but see no one. You call out for an answer, but, you were frightened upon hearing the low drawl of a man's voice.

They call him Bloody Face, but he didn't have the eyes of a killer. No, his hazel irises encapsulated much more of a lamb to the slaughter, a spooked doe in the field of life. Those eyes have called to you since you first glanced at them. They were drawing you in like a sailor at sea. Only the sea you have yet to sail is one of the most forbidden ones—the seven sinful seas. All you yearn to do is explore lust, dip your toes into its waters, and relinquish control of your sails to allow the winds of sensuality to guide you. 

You sneaked peeks at him in-between your normal shift. You tried your hardest to suppress these bubbling desires. Every time you popped one another, a few would float to the surface. It was like a never-ending cycle of torture. Each peek and small exchange left you wanting more of him. You wanted to devour him entirely, to wholeheartedly feel him in ecstasy. You wanted to see those tears and puppy-like expressions directed at you. You didn't. You still don't want any of the other nuns near him. 

You sat at the foot of your bed for many hours that fateful night. You re-read many biblical passages to set yourself right. Losing yourself in your bodily flesh would be a great sin, wouldn't it? Your mind brimming with these detestable daydreams only led you to seek further counsel. You prayed to the highest angels and saints and to the great God himself for guidance on what was to become of you.

'1st Corinthians 6:18— Flee immorality. Every other sin that a man commits is outside the body, but the immoral man sins against his own body.'

You repeated it quietly, with your hands ardently colliding together. The other night, there had just been a slip in your judgment. You hadn't meant to walk past his cell and feel your body grow hotter. You hadn't meant to skip your nightly devotional in favor of more covetous inclinations. You hadn't meant to slip on that white, satiny baby doll and admire yourself in it. You hadn't meant to almost break into his room and show yourself to him like a needy whore.

How vile! You recoil from your bedside at your own enervated nature and decrepit mind. The devil is tempting you and your womanly nature. You took a vow—an oath. You have to wait until your marriage. You have to wait for your man. 

He killed women after all. He is not a man of God. He is a man of pure sin. He is a man of cruelty and evil. He could be the devil himself, trying to tempt you into impurity. Yet you wanted to allow him in.

'1st Thessolonians 4:3— For this is the will of God, your sanctification; that is, that you abstain from sexual immorality.'

You read again. Your eyes are blurred as heavy droplets of your own suppressed sexuality bleed onto the pages filled with divinity. You were slipping. Are you losing your devotion to God? Are you losing your devotion to the cause of saving these twisted souls?

No, you assure yourself. This must be God's calling for you. He's telling you that Kit is innocent. He's compelling you to marry this man. He's urging you to find sanctity within his arms. God knows he is your future husband. That's why you feel this way! It has to be. 

In the next few weeks, you will begin to add Kit to your normal schedule. You assure the other sisters that you want to take on the challenge of caring for such a dangerous man. Sister Mary Eunice keeps giving you weird side glances and avoiding you, but you don't quite care. Her overall attitude has changed towards Briarcliff, but so has yours. You've found your purpose now. 

Every interaction with him fuels your desire to be his wife. You flirt with him subtly. When he gives you that curious expression you brush it off with a certain amount of charm and naive innocence. Your attempts at courting him are clumsy at best. Yet, it seems to be working well enough.  

You keep him away from Grace forever. They had been growing too close. They had been through too much. You planted fake evidence in her room so that she would get punished. You whispered rumors around her and sowed distrust in their once-inseparable bond. You make her life a hell of your own making. One even worse than the walls inside Briarcliff had given her. 

You saw the wedge growing in their relationship because of you. You planted yourself in her place, like a sprout replacing an invasive weed. You always slipped him extra food when it came time. You always read the Bible with him; he gave his life to Christ because of you. You both shared your most intimate secrets in the dead of night. Your relationship had grown to be something even God would envy.

That bitch just had to go and sow discord into your plentiful relationship.

You walked into the kitchen with a batch of dough that needed to set for a few hours. Your eyes widened in horror at what you saw, your pupils dilating to adjust to the lack of light in the kitchen. The large bowl slipped from your hands and crashed onto the floor. You turned around and bolted away like a frightened rabbit. You couldn't even stand to look at the scene for more than a moment. It was like seeing an angel get its wings torn off while falling from paradise.

That succubus was defiling your man. His head was thrown back in pure ecstasy—a dream in your head that you wanted to be between the both of you. Instead, that leech had him in between her legs. They were both in sync, their souls and hearts intertwined. It tore what little self-restraint you had to pieces. You could no longer wait for him to realize God's plan for the both of you.

In the dead of night, after both earned their punishment, you sneak into her room. A kitchen knife lies in your left hand, right behind your back. You'll stab her and make her feel the excruciating agony you felt. Every last drop of it. You enter her room swiftly with a slightly unhinged grin gracing your shadowed features.

She turns and gives you a surprised expression. Her stomach rumbles as she is expecting a bland dinner with as much nutrition as a wet rock. She blinks wearily as you move towards her. She seems apprehensive, but her body language is mostly relaxed. You were the one person who always seemed to be there for her. You were there for every patient. That's what made you everyone's favorite nun.

"Sister?" She calls out anxiously as she wraps an arm around her midsection. "Is dinner late? Or is this concerning my sterilization?"

"Oh, Grace." You murmur in a frenzied manner.

She backs away against the wall as her eyes dart quickly towards the door and back at you. You had locked the door, and your key was somewhere under your garments. She really didn't want to have to grope you to escape. Still, if you did have ill intentions towards her, she'd do whatever she needed to survive. 

"God gave me a Revelation. I found it in my Bible."

You move towards her and swing the knife clumsily. You were a nun, not a murderer. You weren't a murderer until your one true love came along. He just makes you a little unhinged sometimes. It's all in God's plan.

She stumbles back as her palms rest against the stone walls. Her breaths become frantic as her heart speedily beats. She goes into survival mode. A punch is thrown at you as her eyebrows furrow in concentration.

"What the hell! Doesn't your little book tell you not to murder or something?" She screams in a high-pitched tone, doing her best to possibly get someone's attention in this damned hellhole. 

She begins to shriek like a banshee as she fruitlessly struggles against you. Your free hand wraps around her wrist as you sink the knife into her throat. It makes a satisfying squelch as it slices through her skin like a knife through hot butter. She bucks against you like a wild bull as the sanguine fluid spurts out of her gaping wound. 

Another strangled scream escapes from her cracked lips. Her cries and wails fuel your murderous rage as your knife continuously sinks into her supple flesh. You stab, and stab, and stab for what feels like hours on end. You make sure she knows how much she betrayed you. How much she betrayed her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Eventually, her body and mind fail her. She slumps against your figure as the light escapes her eyes swiftly. Her soul is forced out of her body as she becomes a permanent part of Briarcliff. You giggle and smile as the knife digs into her heart. You carve it out of her chest and stab it for the umpteenth time. It squirts out more of her sinful, gooey fluid.

You stare at her limp, lifeless body. Your rage cools a few moments after that. You have no regrets. In the eyes of God you were doing something holy.

"I gave her time to repent, and she did not want to repent of her immorality." You state passively as you grimace at her corpse.

You'll clean yourself and then tell everyone tomorrow that a crazed patient broke into her cell and killed her. You are the asylum's perfect little golden nun, after all. No one will suspect a thing, just as they shouldn't. Visting her was only your first stop tonight. Your second and final, Kit's holding cell.

You slip through the darkened halls with a spring in your elated step. You stopped at your room to wash off and get rid of the kitchen knife. You slip into that precious baby doll as you put your coveted uniform over top of it. You smile in the mirror gently, your spirits as high as the heavens. 

Entire months now come down to these few moments. Your figure slips into his room. The poor thing is still strapped to his bed. Bruises line his toned figure. The paper-thin blanket barely covers his body. His thick, white hospital shirt ridding up, exposing his v-line and abs. His chest is gently moving up and down, calling to you.

You don't want to interrupt your man's slumber, but you need him to know the truth. You climb on top of his sleeping body. Each of your thighs straddling his side. One of your hands reaches down to his exposed stomach as you trail feather light touches over it. An overly excited giggle escapes your lips. 

It has all led up to this moment. Your meeting, your small talk, and your private moments. Those torturous minutes that turned into hours transformed into days in which you were barely able to see a glimpse of him. You spent all those nights praying for a man, and now you have the one that God meant for you. You'll make him forget all about that whore who besmirched him. 

"I wore something just for you, Kit." You whisper those honeyed words into the soft flesh of his pale ear.

You press a hungry kiss onto his lips as your nails dig into him. He bolts awake and panicks as his mind tries to sluggishly process what is happening. He struggles against you for a moment as his pupils dilate to adjust to the surrounding darkness. He recognizes you as his hands grip onto the sides of your thighs. A strangled groan escapes his lips as your assault on them doesn't stop.

"Sugah, slow down now." He murmurs gently with a purr escaping his velvety throat.

His lips don't resist you but return your fervent devotion to his. Everything stops in those moments as the world fades to black. There's nothing more to the both of you than two touch-starved bodies that crave an intimate connection. It was as if, in that moment, both of your hearts became one; your souls had found each other after so long.

Kit hadn't realized how starving he had been. Not just of mind but also of body. This pure sense of need wasn't something he got from Grace or Alma. Somehow, theirs was something corruptly desperate. Yours was nothing more than a divine and guttural urgency for his presence. Your movements were like those of a follower pleasing their divine being.

Everything that happened so far was for this moment. It was worth every single moment. It was worth getting caught with Grace. To see that absolute expression of anguish in those saintly irises of yours. He knew it would drive you right over the edge. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist him after that. He just wanted needed to have a pretty little nun save him from his sins.

"No, no, I can't. We were meant to be. I—"

Kit cuts you off as his hands curl around the edges of your uniform. He presses his forehead against yours intimately as he looks up at you with those doey hazel eyes. A short pant escapes his mouth as he tries to form words. It proves difficult because his entire being is yearning for the proximity of yours.

"I love you." He croaks out in pure bliss. His mouth moves from sacred lips down to the inviting nape of your neck.