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kler-arts · 2 years

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“Way Down We Go” Evil!Bruno Madrigal x reader.

Priest! Bruno Madrigal x Nun reader.

Warnings!! Hard smut, some degrading, possessive dom Bruno. Read at your own risk. MDNI! Religious Kink! Priest Bruno and Nun reader. Evil! Bruno Madrigal.

This beautiful beautiful art is by @kler-arts who drew a comic spired by this fic! Please check out their work their twitter is bruthcosplay1 and IG is Klerdraws

Oh the angels tell me, we get what we deserve. And way down we go.

Hurried footsteps echo against the stone walls; the back of the church is empty, it’s late at night, everyone has gone home, everyone except you and him. You know he is there, lurking in the dark, in his office, sitting on his high throne, serving God under false pretenses. Now you know the truth, he is nothing more than the Devil. No wonder his mother had sent him here, to this god forsaken place, a monastery, just on the edge of the Encanto, far away from prying eyes. She knew he was a curse, his powers had grown out of her control, his curses no longer threats but now reality, dared you speak his name in an ill manner and he would curse you, bringing the punishment for your disrespect to levels no one could fathom. She had gotten rid of him, sent him to a place where only God would watch over him, she had made him become a priest, and in a way he had wanted to get away, taking this opportunity to do it right out of her hands.

He is a bastard. You are sure now, he cursed you, when, you don’t know but he had to have done it, as revenge to your parents he cursed you to spend eternity with him. They had sent you away, sent you here before they died, hoping God would protect you from el brujo, that Bruno wouldn’t be able to touch you here, oh but how wrong they were. Now you know, that those feelings you hold for him, that love that burns so bright, that burns your insides at night, when his voice is everything you can focus on as you pray, holding onto your rosary, a hand between your legs, chasing a release just as sinful as it is delicious. He drew you in, from the moment your eyes had landed on him, so imposing, his demeanor cold, distant, but he was always there, present like a shadow, teaching you, helping you, and what had been once a simple brush of his hand against yours had turned into nights of forbidden pleasures, his names falling in whispers from your lips as your hands worked wishing they were his instead. And he had spurred you on, spending time with you, volunteering you to help him, anything to spend time with you, but never touching you, always respecting the holy bound of Christ.

The pain and betrayal you feel is scarring, tearing you apart from the inside out as the letter you had received is clutch to your chest, he lied, he used you and manipulated you into believing all those feelings where your own, when in reality he knows he had put a price in your heart, he locked it and threw away the key, far from anyone else’s hands. You want to storm in and demand and explanation but you are smarter than that, you know better than to condemn yourself. He isn’t a man to mess with, he isn’t just a man, he is un demonio.

Taking a deep breath you knock on the door, fingers barely rasping the wood before you hear him murmur a come in, his voice raspy, deep. His office is dark, shelves upon shelves of books decorated the walls, a few hourglass clocks and candles a top the shelves. Sand and sugar in small pots on his desk, a bag of sand resting in the corner, you aren’t sure for what and he has never mention it. Clearing your throat you offer him a kind smile, a soft one you always give him whenever you cross paths during the day. His eyes are train on your form, watching you walk towards him, a predator stalking his prey. You take a seat across from him, pressing your knees together, your hand immediately stretching to grab the wine glass he offers you.

He merely wonders how your day has been, he asks you about anything and everything, his conversation small and moving, his eyes never leaving your face. He is quieter than usual, most of the talking coming from your side, and the more time passes the harder it is to keep the knot on your throat from spilling over, the letter burning brightly against your chest pocket and time seems to pass in slow motion, a sudden tension fogging the air, only the flicker of the candles illuminating the space around you. You can see it, the way his eyes wander over your face, you could see that he is done playing games with you, he knows what you are there for. It is too late now, he knows, he knows even if he pretends to have no clue as to what the situation is. Still making small talk, offering you polite comments, nodding on your words. Your eyes adverting his, your hands neatly folded over your lap, nowhere near his, where they usually where, where they belong, as you would always tap him softly, hands brushing when you would talk to no ends after hours. His eyes dance over the fire, his predatory gaze reimagining a demon about to take his next soul.

“Bruno…” His name escapes you, like a prayer half whispered to the gods, flying across the table. His eyebrow raise at the sentence, his back straighten, his demeanor change, it’s the first time you have ever dare call him by his name, the green of his eyes no longer resemble the warm olive you know but more the poison of a snake that will consume your soul. The game is over, no longer either of you playing, and in reality, you are too aware it had never been a game, not a fair one at least, he had always known your next move even before you had birthed the thought.

A hand reaches for his face, long fingers pressing the bridge of his nose, pressing harshly as his eyes flickered bright green for a moment. The air catches in your lungs, suddenly it seems as if water has invaded them, leaving you drowning in pain.

“It was you all along” You breath out, chocking on spit and unshed tears. He only nods, not deeming the moment worthy of words. The silence around you feels suffocating until he decides to speak.

“I have been wondering all night, how long it would take for you to break,” He stops, the tone of his voice could be mistaken for joy, his eyes scanning over your face in thought. “It seems you have lasted more than I expected amor.” His lips finish, his eyes taking in the way the name takes a death grip of your throat, choking any words down.

Trembling feet carry you to him, knees hitting the floor halfway before reaching him. You kneel down in front of the devil.

Even angels had the most devilish thoughts.

“I loved you,” you spit out hoarsely, tears running down your face. “And it repulses me.” You finish, the pain of saying those words visible on your lips.

Your eyes meet his, only to be met by mock, the shadow of green dancing on them. His laughter fills the void, dark, cooling the temperature. Fear threatens to show behind your eyes as you lower them. Feet touch the floor as long legs mount a stance, ripping himself away from the chair. Teasingly, he stalks towards your bowing figure before halting, towering over you. His grin faltered, replaced with a look of disgusted delight.

“Then you must show me just how much you love me.” His smile becomes sadistic, his eyes glowing bright green as his hand reaches towards your chin, pushing it up to look at him.

You don’t need him to tell you what he wants, the mask he wears has finally fallen off, the blurred line of sin and holiness is now completely gone, you both know it, it’s a fine thread you dance on, the tension in between the both of you, the touches, the looks, you know he wants you as much as you want him, and now you could see he doesn’t care to mock Gods name with his carnal needs, this has been a game for him all along.

You want him, for heavens sake you want him, you want to hate him, you want to repulse him and be disgusted by his mere presence but you simply can’t , you can’t because he had cursed you to be his for eternity, he had made sure your heart belonged to him and him alone. With trembling hands you reach up, trying to find the buttons on his robe, the black robe he wore, the guardian of the church, the holy man of his sanctity.

You open the buttons one by one all the way to his chest, revealing the black trousers he wore under, the shape of his cock visible through the fabric, and you need to resist the urge to trace it with your hands. He moves his hands to his hair, untying it from its usual loose pony tail, holding onto the hair band he moves his hands to yours, grabbing your tresses in a fist and tying it back in a high ponytail, grabbing hold of the base of it as he moves you back, yanking your hair back to make you look at him, the deranged smile on his face is terrifying, or at least it should scare you, but the only reaction your body has it’s a dripping sensation between your legs, his fingers quickly opening the pants, pulling down the zipper and tugging down his underwear, his cock finally free, precum leaking from the head, it’s so much wider than you imagine, your eyes look back at him, the hand on your hair guiding you closer and when you eyes shut as you are about to touch him he yanks you back.

“Eyes up here amor. I want to see you when you take all of me.” He says, his eyes no longer dark but now they have an iridescent glow to them.

He moves you again, lips brushing the tip of his cock and the hold he has on your hair is so tight you don’t dare look away from him. The salty precum lubricates your mouth as he parts your lips, pushing mercilessly all the way in, eyes half lidded as he feels himself hit the back of your throat. A breathy moan escaping his lips.

“That’s, that’s a good girl,” he praises when your cheeks hollow around him, tongue moving under his cock, spit collecting under your tongue, your lips hurt from the stretch of accommodating his thick length.

His free hand moves to lay against the door, quickly moving down to lock it and take out the key, throwing it somewhere behind him; his thumb then brushes your bottom lip, feeling it stretch around him as he smears the spit leaking out of your mouth.

“Tan sucia, mirate, a los pies de tu señor, cogiendo todo lo que te doy.” His voice breaks at the end, eyes closing as he throws his head back, your tongue grazing the little hole at the head of his cock. You don’t have time to relent on the sight of him, the moment he feels your lips separating just a little bit from him, he tightens his grip on you and pushes you back down, hitting so far down your throat your gagging reflex kicks in, making you cough and gag around him.

“Are you shocking little rat?” He asks with mock sympathy, not really caring and holding you still, his dick still so far down your throat tears are beginning to collect on your eyes.

“Such a beautiful girl, such a pretty mouth, what a shame it is to use it on somone as disgusting as me.” He moans out, pulling you back enough to breathe but leaving himself still inside of your mouth.

“Ugh, no te atrevas a tragar.” He warns you before shoving himself back down your mouth, his pace faster, rougher, making you hold onto his thighs for support as his hips buckle, a moan escaping from you, vibrating against his member and he lets out a long groan before tightening his hold on your hair past the point of pain, his hand slamming against the door as he comes in your mouth, eyes wild, glowing, he looks like a storm that’s has just reached his peak point of destruction.

“Tsk tsk, what did I say,” he warns you when he feels your throat contracting to swallow.

“Keep it in your mouth until I say so.” His tone is demanding, a warning in his voice. One you wouldn’t dare disobey.

His hand finally releases your hair and he moves down, kneeling in front of you, his eyes looking you over before his face turns into a scowl and his hands grip at your robe, ripping open the buttons at the front, exposing your chest to him, his hands moving over your shoulders, down your back and over you arms as he takes it off of you, leaving you naked except for your underwear.

“Come here.” He commands before laying you down on his knees, your ass up and his cock grazing your side, your breast pressing up against the door, one of his hands sneaking up around your throat, gripping the rosary you wear around his fingers in between your skin and his.

A loud whine escapes you the moment his fingers trail down the curve of your back, over your butt cheek, “looks like you will need help keeping quite chiquita” he says, the hand on your throat moving up to your mouth, making sure not a sound will escape you.

You squirm under him, muffle moans escaping you as his fingers graze your slit shamelessly, feeling the wetness and teasing the tip of them on your hole, pushing just with enough pressure to feel how hot and pulsing you are.

“Tan mojada, tan sucia,” he groans, his cock beginning to harden against you and you feel him move, his hands grabbing the belt of his robe. “Quedate quieta, hermosa.” He tells you before moving the rope around the front of your neck, back down your shoulders, under your chest and around your hands, trying them together behind your back, keeping you in place for him.

“Eres una maldita, sucia, tan mojada para mi, te deberia dar vergüenza.” His tone becomes rougher, his hand suddenly smacking down your butt cheek, the sting only adding to the wetness you feel.

“Father Madrigal?” Your eyes snap open as fast as they had closed, the knock at the door building panic over your body, your neck hurting from the struggle of turning to look at him, a devilish smirk on his face as his fingers move to still at your dripping hole before he speaks.

“Yes Father Jose I’m here.” He says, his voice neutral, as if wasn’t absolutely destroying you right behind the closed door.

“Is everything alright? Do you need anything?” The other priest asks, concern lacing his voice. Bruno smirks, his fingers moving moving over your entrance as his index finger moves to graze at your clit, your hands tightening around the restraints as you yearn to touch him, to feel his skin. Fingers digging into the palm of your hand as he moves his finger faster, smearing your wetness over your clit, squeezing it and pulling it slightly in between his fingers.

“Yes father everything is alright, I just spilled some water on accident.” Bruno says, smirk still present as his eyes light up with a mischievous grin.

“Say father how is your mother? Are the remedies working for her?” He is such a piece of shit bastard. Making the other man talk so he won’t leave, so he can have you here, quiet and tortured while the other priest is blissfully ignorant of the sin being committed.

You don’t even hear the other man’s reply, you can’t focus on it as he opens you up and inserts two fingers inside of you, curling them in looking for that sweet spot he knows will throw you over, and just as he finds it he leans down, curling his fingers over and over against it, feeling your walls flutter against him, it feels so painfully good that tears have collected in your eyes, his fingers moving faster and faster, you feel so close to collapsing you can’t do anything but beg he will have mercy.

“Don’t you dare to cum.” He whispers against your ear, the stubble of his beard sending goosebumps over your skin, and you could cry and scream of frustration because you know better than to disobey him.

The other man talks again and Bruno takes a moment to reply, commenting on something mundane before asking him another question. His fingers deep inside of you are about to make you cum, he is moving them so precisely, hitting that spot over and over again; his lips move over your back, kissing and nipping at the skin of your neck, and you can’t help it, you feel yourself beginning to tighten, your mouth opening behind his hand in a silent moan, your spit and his cum mixing together, smearing themselves over your chin and his hand. He groans, his teeth forming a snarl as he moves you faster than you can process, his fingers gone but you can feel the orgasm coming through, he sits you up on your knees, leaning you against the door and quickly angling your ass back. His hand still firmly against your mouth and as you hear the other man wish him a good night, his cock rams into you, the head splitting you open as he sheaths himself deep inside of you, the wetness making it easy for him to enter you all the way until he is completely submerged in you. You have to be dying, there’s no way you can take all of his cock, your walls fluttering around him, your orgasm ripping through you and you can’t even moan or scream, but you can feel the small tear dripping down your cheek and your back arches into him, your breast perking up and he immediately grabs one with his hand, squeezing the soft flesh as he groans.

He can’t even wish the other priest goodnight, words have left him completely, his cock feels as if it is burning up inside your hot velvety walls and for a moment he thinks he may come on the spot, holding onto your skin with all his strength, his grip on your hips so tight it will most likely leave bruises as his head falls down over your shoulder and he needs a moment to come back to earth. Once he feels stable enough to move, he pulls back, pulling out all the way to the tip before ramming himself back in, his teeth clench together and sweat accumulating on his forehead, he can feel the way you breath in as he sinks all the way inside of you, stretching you open with his thickness to the point it is almost painful.

He moves in deep strokes, making sure to hit the deepest part of you each time, the only sound in the room is the wetness of your bodies connecting, and he needs all the focus and strength he has to keep himself from coming, his hands trembling and the muscles on his stomach pulling taunt at the effort. He wonders how could he had ever cursed you, you are heaven, you feel like heaven and he is sure he is here by mistake, he forgets who he is, the only thought in his head is you wrapped around him, your skin slick with sweat against him and he wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you back to rest against him as he speeds up his pace, soft moans escaping him, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“You will know he’ll before you know heaven boy.” The vision had said when he was just a boy the vision had warned him of the pain, the suffering he would endure before he was redeemed, before he was saved and forgiven. And he was sure now this is what the vision was talking about. You were what the vision was talking about.

His arms tighten around you as he speeds up, hips stuttering and he feels everything in himself beginning to clench. His hand leaves your face, moving it away he turns your head to look at him, looking at you with half lidded eyes before he brings your lips together in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, feeling the mix of you and him, his cum and your spit together. His hand tangled on your hair, moving apart to breath before kissing you again, a line of spit connecting your mouth and he squeezes you, his eyes squeezing shut a rough groan escaping him as he comes, pushing all the way inside of you, bucking like a wild animal as he makes sure to fill you with everything he has, resting against you once he is spent, both of you collapsing to the floor and he releases the rope keeping you tied, holding you against him as he lays against the door. The only thing that matters right now is you and him, even when he knows tomorrow you will leave him, you will demand he breaks the curse that ties you to him, and you will leave him once you realize the disgusting human he is, he can’t break the curse, he can’t set you free.

@samanthalightning

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kler-arts · 2 years

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