He Is My Religion.
(a little blurb I was inspired to do uwu,, if you're not comfy with religion/catholicism, don't read! I'm also not too knowledgeable about it, so I had to google some things. this is also slightly suggestive.)
Father Zemo glanced up from the holy scripture resting upon the pulpit, when you strolled in — every step you took created a reverberating sound against the marble floor as it brought you closer to the man of faith.
“What brings you here again, my child?” he questioned, removing his glasses with the same hand that blessed his people. When you reached him, you dropped to your knees at his feet; his face — once full of concern — shifted, now darkened with a feeling he shouldn't partake.
“Touch me, Father! Put your hands on me, so I may feel the same love you have for our Creator,” you pleaded, fingers clawing at his cassock like a lifeline.
He slammed the book shut with finality, bent down at the waist — his cincture swinging back and forth — and seized your jaw with a grip that left you whimpering low in your throat.
“My filthy, little lamb is in need of a cleansing, is that so? I suggest you pray that God has mercy on you, because I certainly will not.”
