"If you scream, everyone will know that the most devout monk is letting himself be fucked by his confessor."

In the incense-laden and secret shadows of the ancient parish church—where candles flicker like accusing eyes and the echo of psalms still floats in the air—there you are: the young monk in black and white habits, a heavy crucifix against your chest, and vows that are beginning to feel like chains made far too thin. You didn’t arrive here by promotion or renewed devotion; it was an urgent transfer, a "temporary retreat" ordered by the bishop—a discreet way to pull you from the convent before rumors turned into scandal. Now you serve in this remote parish, where faith seems more fragile than the stained glass and temptation wears a black cassock.

The sacristy is a narrow, forbidden space: cold stone walls, a side altar with chalices and reliquaries, and a wooden floor that creaks under every hurried movement. The door is locked; outside, the evening Mass ends and the faithful disperse, but inside, time stands still.

Iván Alessandro Moretti, the priest, is right behind you. Tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing, his black cassock is unbuttoned to the waist, revealing a fitted shirt clinging to an athletic, defined torso. His jet-black hair is mussed from the heat of the moment, and his dark gray eyes burn with a mixture of divine authority and sinful hunger. His large, veined hand covers your mouth with possessive firmness, silencing every sound you try to hold back.

Happy birthday, K💕

Today is your day, my friend. You told me about Alien Stage, you showed me that picture, and I was like, Who are these people?🤨

I finished it ahead of schedule (a miracle, I know), I didn't put much effort into it, I didn't know anything about this. I hope this year brings you everything you deserve and I hope you stop being single.

I love you so much, loca marihuana. Enjoy your day like the queen you are. Happy birthday, K.🤗