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babygorewhore · 1 month ago

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Am I making you feel sick?

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader one shot.

When Father Charlie Mayhew sees you, a magnetic young woman who isn’t the typical Catholic, his sinful nature only grows.

Thank you so much to @cxrrodedcoffin for helping me brain storm and to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the picture!

Warnings! Perv! Charlie. Panty stealing, male masturbation, self whipping, obsessive behavior, mild talks of violence, blasphemy, male receiving oral, choking, pussy slapping, degrading, spitting, female recieving oral, unprotected sex, face slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms!

The markings on Charlie’s back were a humbling reminder of his sin. He focused his efforts onto appearing normal. A regular service. A way to give the people encouragement, guidance and a spiritual feast. But keeping his composure while you played with the fringes of your skirt, the curves of your thighs exposed as you crossed your ankles. That proved to be a significant challenge.

You were a regular member of the church. Your attendance isolated. Your presence came after the death of your grandparents a few months prior.

He remembered first seeing you. As if a halo shined above your head as you confidently strode into the building. The click of your platform shoes echoed across the floor as you plopped onto a seat. Charlie nearly stumbled over his sermon when you met eyes that day. Your gaze was focused. Made up eyes with a mixture of curiosity and rebellion.

Above your heart, you wore a silver cross. The muscles in your neck flexing as you chew a piece of bubble gum. Beautiful wasn’t fitting enough to describe you. Charlie was enchanted by the way you tried to follow along in your Bible but you seemed to be a step behind.

His cock started to throb when you would separate your legs, exposing the black lace material that covered your pussy. After the third time he saw you, Charlie approached you with a confident stride. He hoped it was enough to cover the urge to wince at his wounds. It’s what he deserved after his fist jerked himself off the previous nights.

He readied himself to speak but you looked him up and down with a slight smirk.

“Yeah?” You ran the tip of your tongue along the edges of your teeth and Charlie cleared his throat.

“God looks favorably on those who are devout to him. And I know he looks down on you with deep appreciation.” He was used to his charm working immediately. Charlie prepared for flirtation in return, a giggle or even batting eyelashes but instead you snorted with a flick of your hair.

“Duh. That’s why I come here. I know God loves me otherwise I wouldn’t be alive.” He opened his mouth to question what you meant but you spun on your heels and walked away.

Charlie was self admittedly obsessed with you. He found every excuse imaginable to walk by your area. He found you online. His fingers shook and his forearm was sore from busting a load when he looked at your photos.

But his deep desire for you only grew when he ran into you at the diner. You drank a milkshake and nibbled on the remainder of your fries. When you saw him, you waved him over. Charlie plastered on a smile and spoke your name with a feign politeness.

“Can you be a good little priest and watch my purse?” You asked him and he swallowed. He nodded as you walked to the near restroom.

Charlie understood fully it was juvenile to search your purse but when his fingers fell on the material of lace, an overwhelming feeling of excitement came. He pocketed the pair of panties and gained his strength when you returned.

His life before turning to the cloth consisted of perverse acts and they lingered within him like a poison. You were possessing his every thought just like corrupted angels that turned away from God. Charlie was tired of his own rough hand. One that inflicted regular discipline. One that desperately wanted to touch you.

He walked around the church during nightfall. Kneeling before the candles and begging for any assistance. For strength to resist. But it was too much. So much so, that Father Charlie began stealing more and more things. A lipgloss tube. Chains. A secondary fragrance. Anything that could bring him closer to you.

Charlie concluded and pried himself out of the intoxication of the image of being between your legs.

“Take solace in the congregation!” He cried out, holding his hands up. “Lean onto God for your salvation against this treachery!” Charlie quieted.

The service concluded and the rainfall began. Numbers dwindled except you. His breathing trembled as he strode to you. “Ah, is your mind filled with worry?” He tucked his hands behind his back. You popped your hip and stared at the wood intricacies.

“I can’t go home. There was a leak in my apartment ceiling. I’m about to phone a friend so I can stay with him while it’s being fixed.” You adjusted your ring and Charlie clenched his fists.

The mention of another male made him feel nearly nauseous. Charlie clicked his jaw and raised his eyebrows. “You can have sanctuary here. We have rooms-“

“God, why do you talk like that?” You turned to face him and he was taken aback by your aggressive tone. “You’re my age. And you act like you’re Jesus!”

You gripped his collar suddenly and Charlie let out a gasp. Your breath smelled like strawberries. The shine to your lips with a hint of glitter. “Get over yourself, Father. Just because you wear this ridiculous outfit, doesn’t mean you’re anything less than a little boy.”

Every word you spoke was laced with a condescending bite. You let him go but Charlie didn’t step back. His eyes kept falling to the wicked mouth giving him a slew of insults that were a muffle in his ears.

“Anyway. I keep trying to call him but there’s barely any service in here.” You roll your eyes and Charlie musters his confidence back.

“You can stay here tonight. Give him a call in the morning. I can promise you safety here.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You seemed to contemplate it for a moment. Your stare narrowed before a minimal softness came.

“Well. I guess I can spare one night.”

Charlie led you in silence to his room. Every footstep was heavy. The weight of his internal battle tormenting him. He stood in silence as your fingers traced the walls, lingering on the hung cross and twirled the quilt on his bed.

You sat down, resting your palms on your knees and met his look.

“How long have you been catholic?” The question was genuine and his intrigue increased as you chuckled. You examined your nails with a lilting response.

“Not long. Grew up around the church but left when I was eighteen. Swore it off until these super hot guys in a band attacked me,” His jaw dropped and rage ignited his chest. “But I happened to have my Cross. Guess you could call it Divine intervention. I stabbed the man with it in the eye. Maced the other one. Third dude ran away.”

You completed the sentence with a giggle. “I promised God that if he got me out, I’d join the church. And I keep my word.” You pressed your hands together in prayer.

Charlie lost control of his body and he moved towards you. He set his large hands on your shoulders, squeezing your muscles and he bent down. “How could anyone want to hurt you?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He pressed a finger against your lips and you pulled it into your mouth. Charlie grunted and removed it.

You sank down on the floor, unbuckling his pants with a practiced ease. Peering at him, you smiled and hooked your finger in his trousers.

His size and girth made your mouth water. You allowed your lips to part, drool pooling down your tongue that stuck out. You removed his boxers, Charlie’s dick twitching as you slapped the tip against your tongue. You licked his length, dragging motions that made his vision go white.

When you took him in your mouth, moving your neck to deepthroat, he moaned and his hand set on your head. Charlie pumped your skull, thrusting but you pulled off. Messily sucking his balls and he started convulsing.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He pulled the strings. He held the reins and control was his.

A part of him unlocked, one that he tried to put away. Charlie growled and yanked you off his shaft. Laughter escaped you, as you still believed you called the shots.

“Oh my god! You were about to cream down my throat and I only did it for a minute or two.” He stood there as you dug the pair of stolen panties from his pocket.

“Did you really think I was that stupid? You think I don’t know a fucking pervert when I see them?” You flicked them at his face and Charlie’s cheeks heated. “You’re disgusting.”

He reached and gripped your jaw. Charlie backed you up until you were slammed on the bed, his knee between your thighs as his cock pulsed. He wrapped that same hand around your throat, squeezing until you were staring at him with wide eyes.

“I am going to ruin you and that sweet little pussy you flash at me. You think this is a goddamn joke?” His voice was rasped with lust and a sickness he caught the moment he saw you.

Charlie let go of your throat and watched you cough. He tore away your panties, shredding off the skirt and stared at your dripping cunt. He let his head fall to the side, dark brown eyes focused on your flustered expression.

You went to gain some sort of momentum to support yourself but Charlie gave your pussy a sharp slap.

You made a shrieking noise at the impact and he scoffed. “Oh don’t act so fuckin stupid. Is that little corrupted brain of yours not getting it?” Weeks of build up poured out of him and he smacked your center three more times. Each strike harder than the last.

Your mouth pressed in a line, a poor attempt to conceal the pleasure. Charlie allowed a sinister smile to curl. “You’re almost as fucked up as I am, doll.” Your eyes widened as he slowly let his mouth graze your lower half.

He let his full lips brush against your bare skin as he breathed in. Charlie smelled the scent of your pulsing cunt and the wild need ignited in him. The priest gripped your hips as his knees pressed into the floor. He smashed his mouth against your pussy.

It was better than candy. The most saccharine sensation as he parted his lips and found your clit. Charlie’s dick was so hard that his hand picked up the discarded panties. He wrapped them around his cock, moaning at the relief as his tongue tasted you.

Charlie worked you over, his other hand keeping your hips in place.

His nose hit the right spots and he wasn’t shy about being messy. You were panting, holding his head and grinding as much as you could. Your moans were better than his favorite song. Charlie had plenty of experience burying his face between a woman’s legs. It was something that he did not only for their pleasure but his own.

Feeling your body contract, moving into his corrupted touch made Charlie’s eyes roll back as more slick soaked his mouth. You cried out, a series of, “Oh god, fuck! F-fuck.” You sounded on the brink of tears.

Charlie pushed two fingers inside you, making your whimpers become pathetic. He pumped them as he lifted himself, hovering over you with a wet chin. “Open that whore mouth,” he commanded and you did.

Charlie let the spit fall, coating your tongue and lips. “Swallow it. You know all about that, huh?” He enjoyed the sight of you beneath him. Charlie kissed you. Deeply and hungrily. He sucked your lower lip lewdly, letting a thick groan escape him. You returned it in kind, pressing your chest against his, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his arms.

Your fingers felt the scars on his back but Charlie didn’t care. Every single self inflicted mark was worth it if it meant he could be with you.

“Fuck me, please. Please fuck me,” You begged and Charlie’s dick fucking hurt but he loved the pain. He ran the tip of his cock against your clit, smearing the cum and continuous wetness.

He sank into your entrance, stretching you and you both let out a harmonious sigh. Charlie’s half opened eyes observed you arch your back but that familiar fire burned in your eyes. You tightened your legs that were around his waist. He knew you were trying to flip over. Not now. Charlie aggressively thrusted into you, bringing his hand down to spank the side of your ass.

“Oh no, you don’t get to ride me yet. You’re gonna lay there like the helpless sinner you are.” He growled and heaved your thighs over his shoulders. Getting an even deeper angle as your ass was off the mattress.

Drool escaped your hung open mouth and he let his palm feel your lower stomach. “Yeah? You feel that? Feel me in your pathetic pussy? You,” Thrust,” “Are,” thrust, “Mine.”

“Yours,” You sobbed and he smacked your face.

“You can do better. You can do fucking better than that.” Charlie smeared the spit on your mouth, cheek and slapped it again. “Tell me you’re a good girl.”

“I’m a good girl. I’m your good girl.” You pleaded with growing pleasure.

“See? You obey me. Deep down,” He felt the bulge again. “You’re a desperate little girl needing to be fucked. By someone as sick as me.”

You let out a wail, moans of pleasure coming out in staccato breaths. Charlie busted his load into your pussy, his lips hovering over yours as you both humped each other.

He rolled over, sinking you on his cock. Your tits were in his face, he sucked your nipple as you bounced. Charlie felt your fingers scratch his chest, marking his skin in the shape of a Cross with your nail.

He pried off your tit, his hands holding your waist. “Pussy squeezin me so tight. Like you can’t get enough. Greed is a sin,” Charlie sucked your pulse point and brought you to a second climax.

You fucked yourself on his dick. Mewling as he coated your insides with cum. “You’re my dirty little sinner. Give me every last drop. Let me have it,” He whispered the last part of the sentence.

He didn’t forget your tale of woe. Charlie put away your confession in his mind. You were put in a position of self defense. But if you hadn’t been so brave, you wouldn’t have walked into the congregation.

You slowed down, lazily riding his dick with a dazed expression.

“Get on your knees. You’re gonna lick my cock clean and finish the game you started.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @fear-is-truth @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @chavezprincess @titsout4nicholas @userchai @taintandviolent @webbluvrsugar @oceanblvd111

#Charlie #charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #father charlie grotesquerie #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew smut #nicholas alexander chavez #Nicholas Alexander Chavez smut #nicholas chavez #Nicholas Chavez smut #grotesquerie

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strcwbrryklss · 2 months ago

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୨୧﹕ forgive me .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; father charlie mayhew x fem!reader contains ; tension , smut ( oral m receiving ) a/n ; i rewatched fleabag season two and HAD to write this for my own sake ( also havent proofread this,, so just ignore any mistakes pls. summary ; it has been 160 days since your last confession.

the soft hum of hymns filled the stone walls of the church, echoing through the vast, candlelit space. the congregation sat quietly, hands folded in prayer or resting on their laps, their eyes fixed on the alter.

the heavy scent of incense hung in the air, weaving between the polished wooden pews, where you sat toward the back, trying to focus on the words of the sermon. the light from the stained glass windows poured in, casting delicate hues of red, blue, and gold across the congregation, illuminating the man at the front of the church.

father charlie.

your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of the pew. you had tried to stop coming to mass, but something always drew you back here—drew you back to him. each week, you told yourself it would be different. you would listen to the sermon, find solace in his words, and leave without this gnawing ache in your chest.

but it never worked.

father charlie stood at the altar, the bible held firmly in his hands as he delivered his message, his voice deep and smooth, filling the grand space with a quiet authority. his tone was soft, but it held power, a magnetic pull that kept everyone’s attention on him. but while the others listened intently to the words of faith, of virtue and devotion, your mind was far from holy thoughts.

your eyes traced the lines of his jaw, the way the sunlight caught in his brown hair, making the strands shine beneath the dim lighting of the cathedral. his features were sharp but kind, his strong brows furrowed in concentration as he spoke about resisting the temptations of the flesh.

temptation.

the word reverberated through you, sending a jolt of heat to your core. temptation, the feeling you knew far too well. father charlie’s hands moved as he gestured lightly with his sermon, and you found yourself imagining those hands on you, instead of the bible. you swallowed hard, pulse quickening as your thoughts drifted to places you knew they shouldn’t go, especially here — especially with him.

he was the very definition of unattainable, a man sworn to a life of celibacy, of purity. and yet, you couldn’t stop the thoughts that rushed through your mind every time you looked at him. every sunday, you sat in the same pew, feeling that same magnetic pull toward him, a pull you couldn’t explain and couldn’t resist.

his robes hung loosely on his tall, lean frame, the fabric shifting with each subtle movement he made. beneath them, you knew there was something stronger, something more human than the holy image he portrayed. and the thought of that made your stomach twist with desire.

you could barely breathe, the church suddenly feeling too warm, too confined. you bit your lip, eyes darting to the floor as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. this was wrong. so wrong. but you couldn’t help it. every word that came from his lips only seemed to make it worse, sending your mind spiraling deeper into a fantasy you had tried so hard to bury.

you imagined it so clearly now — being alone with him after the congregation had gone. the church would be empty, the candles burning low, the flickering flames casting long shadows along the stone walls. you would step toward him, heart pounding, and when your hand brushed his, you’d feel the heat of his skin, the tension between you palpable. he would hesitate, of course. his vows, his faith — they would hold him back for a moment. but then, in the quiet of the empty church, his restraint would finally break.

your pulse raced as the image flashed vividly in your mind: his hands on you, pulling you close, his lips crashing into yours with all the pent-up passion he had kept locked away for so long. the forbidden thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine, your breath coming faster as you quickly glanced back up at him, half-expecting to see him watching you, knowing your every sinful thought.

but he wasn’t. father charlie’s gaze was still fixed on the congregation, his words steady as he spoke about virtue, about control.

you looked across the church, towards one of the many paintings of god, his expression seeming almost disappointed. you felt a flush of guilt, heat rising to your cheeks. how could you sit here, in a place meant for worship, and think these things? how could you look at him — father charlie — and imagine him like that? it was wrong. but that only seemed to make the ache in your chest grow stronger, the desire burning hotter with each passing moment.

the service was drawing to a close, and your heart pounded as you realised you would soon have to face him. father charlie always stood at the door after mass, offering a handshake and a few kind words to each person who passed. every week, that brief moment of contact set your skin on fire, leaving you wanting more.

and then you saw him — father charlie, standing by the entrance, his eyes warm and kind as he greeted the parishioners. you swallowed hard, heart racing as you approached. his gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you.

"god bless you, y/n" father charlie said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his hand extended toward yours.

you hesitated for the briefest moment, your breath catching in your throat as your hand slipped into his. his grip was firm but gentle, the warmth of his skin sending a spark of electricity through you. you looked up into his eyes, searching for… something. some sign that he could feel the same pull, the same tension that had been building between you for months. but his expression was as serene as ever, his smile kind and distant.

"thank you, father," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you let go of his hand, your fingers tingling where they had touched him, before turning around to leave the sacred building. however, you stopped in your tracks.

turning towards him, you spoke timidly, "actually, father.."

as you approached, father charlie glanced up and saw you, his warm smile instantly making your heart skip a beat. his dark eyes met yours, and you felt that familiar pull, a flutter in your stomach that made your knees weak.

"yes?," he responded kindly, his voice a calm, steady presence that filled the space between you.

"father," you began, your voice shaking slightly as you stepped closer. "i was wondering if… there’s any chance i could confess later?"

there. you’d said it. the words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were certain he could see right through you — into your mind, your thoughts, your desires. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the tension coiled in your chest made it nearly impossible to hide how nervous you were.

father charlie’s smile softened, a gentle, almost unreadable look crossing his face as he studied you. he took a small step closer, lowering his voice slightly as if sensing the weight of what you were carrying. "of course," he said, his tone compassionate, "confession is always available for those who seek it. Would you like to meet later this afternoon?"

the way he said it — just us — made your stomach flip. you nodded, unable to fully trust your voice at the moment. your throat felt tight, your thoughts tangled. "yes. that would be… good."

his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer, his eyes holding yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. there was nothing inappropriate about it, nothing overt, and yet you couldn’t help but feel as if there was something deeper there, hidden beneath the surface of his composed expression. you tried to ignore the way your body reacted to it, the way your skin seemed to burn with the need for more than just words.

"come by around eight," he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he was giving you permission to unburden yourself in a way you hadn’t before. "we can speak privately in the confessional."

your heart raced as he said it, the reality of what you were asking for sinking in. it wasn’t just confession — not for you. It was a way to be close to him, a way to sit in that small, private space, separated only by the thin barrier of the confessional screen. the idea of it — of being so close, alone, with him — made your chest tighten with anticipation.

you swallowed hard, nodding again. "thank you, father," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he gave you one last kind, reassuring smile before you turned to leave, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears as you made your way toward the exit. as you stepped out into the cool air, your body still tingling with the thought of what was to come, your mind raced. confession wasn’t supposed to feel like this — like a secret thrill, a forbidden opportunity. but that’s exactly how it felt.

and it wasn’t just the confession itself. it was him. the way he carried himself with such calm authority, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you, pulling you deeper into your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, tried to deny it, but there was no use anymore.

you wanted him.

by the time the clock struck eight, you found yourself back at the church, your heart racing as you made your way inside. the church was mostly empty now, the quiet stillness of the afternoon wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. you could hear your own footsteps echoing softly as you walked down the aisle toward the confessional booth.

you hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, the small, intimate space feeling even smaller than usual. the soft rustle of father charlie’s robes reached your ears as he entered the adjacent booth, and your breath hitched in your throat. the thin screen between you offered a sense of privacy, but it did nothing to stop the electricity that buzzed in the air.

"whenever you’re ready," came his voice, low and soothing, sending a shiver through you.

your mind raced, the words you had rehearsed suddenly seeming inadequate. how could you confess these feelings to him? How could you possibly admit that the sin you carried was him? the thought alone made your throat tighten, but you knew you couldn’t back out now.

"forgive me, father, for i have sinned…" you began, your voice shaky, barely more than a whisper, "it has been 160 days since my last confession"

you weren’t sure how you were going to get through this confession, but one thing was certain — the desire that burned inside you wasn’t something that could be easily absolved.

you hesitated, grappling with the words that felt so heavy on your tongue. "i've been having… thoughts," you started, feeling your cheeks flush. "sinful thoughts that i know i shouldn’t be having."

"sinful thoughts about someone?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"yes," you admitted, heat creeping up your cheeks. "someone i shouldn’t be thinking about. i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it."

"tell me more," father charlie encouraged, his tone gentle but firm, as if he could sense the struggle within you.

"it’s... complicated,” you continued, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. "i’ve been trying to push these feelings away, but every time i see him, it’s like i’m drawn to him in a way i know isn’t right."

"why do you believe these feelings are wrong?” he asked, and you could hear the slightest hint of tension in his voice, a challenge that made your heart race.

"because he’s... celibate,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "and i shouldn’t feel this way about him. but i do."

the silence that followed was deafening. you could almost hear the clock ticking, each second feeling like an eternity. you held your breath, waiting for his response, feeling the heat of your confession hang in the air between you, "i don't know what to do, father. these thoughts won't go away"

the scent of incense swirled around you like a comforting yet suffocating blanket. you could hear the soft rustle of the priest’s robes on the other side of the screen. he took a deep breath.

"kneel"

the unexpected command took you by surprise. your heart raced at the thought, a mix of anxiety and anticipation flooding your senses. "kneel?" you echoed, trying to process his words.

"i want you to kneel."

you hesitated for just a moment, but something in his voice compelled you to comply. slowly, you knelt before the screen, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your knees. your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears as you sensed the shift in the air around you.

the curtain opened slightly, and father charlie stepped into view, his expression unreadable. the light from the candle illuminated his features, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. there was a hunger there, a spark that made your pulse quicken.

father charlie looked down at you, bringing his hand down to your chin and tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes. as the moment hung in the air, your heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in your ears. you could feel the heat radiating between you both, a magnetic pull that left you breathless. anticipation coursed through your veins, mingling with a desperate thrill that made your pulse quicken.

unexpectedly, he leaned down, stopping only inches away from your lips, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you looked down at father charlie's parted lips, before looking back up at his eyes, glistening in the candlelight. your thoughts raced, much more sinful than they were before.

and just like that, father charlie closed the gap between you in a slow but passionate kiss. it felt as if you were breathing each other's air, your fingers moving up and tracing his arm. he then pulled away. you almost followed him, desperate for more, but you couldn't.

looking up at him, your heart raced, a needy look in your eyes.

the sound of father charlie unbuckling his belt rang through the church; anyone who walks in would know what was happening. but you didn't care.

he unzipped his pants before pulling them down, just past his underwear, the thin fabric revealing his large bulge. your was mouth already salivating at the thought of it. father charlie looked down at you with a nod, giving you permission.

your fingers made their way towards his waistband, slowly curling underneath his clothing before slowly pulling them down, just enough to reveal his erection.

gasping slightly at the size of him, you hesitated, your heart quickening.

father charlie moved his hand to the back of your head, urging you.

you couldn't wait any longer. you took deep breath before licking his tip, the taste of his pre-cum giving you the need for more.

desperately, your mouth took as much of him as it could, causing him to let out a soft moan as his tip touched the back of your throat. you looked up at him. the sight of him looking down at you with so much lust, so much greed in his eyes caused your stomach to flutter.

he grabbed onto the back of your hair, lightly pushing you back and forth before picking up momentum. father charlie threw his head back in pleasure, before looking into your eyes once again.

you moaned as the pace grew faster, causing his eyebrows to furrow at the vibration. and with that, he released, the warmth of it running down your throat.

looking up at him with admiration, he smiled slightly.

you knew this wasn't the last time.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #777 #݁₊ ⊹ ݁˖ ⋆ strcwbrryklss

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mortifiedandawesome · 25 days ago

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I'm Lonely (And I Love It)

#future bible heroes #i'm lonely #i'm lonely and i love it #magnetic fields #the magnetic fields

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blkkizzat · 8 months ago

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'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation.

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course.

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation.

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action.

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself.

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful?

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.

If you were a test he had failed.

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions.

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib?

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer.

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs.

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison.

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance.

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak.

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man.

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds.

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold.

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you.

There was no escaping you.

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji.

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction.

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen?

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat.

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame.

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age.

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith.

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face.

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees.

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar.

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then.

Nor your husband.

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk.

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear:

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town.

Gojo owns your cunt.

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass.

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist.

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.”

You obediently replied.

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth.

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue.

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease.

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you.

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips.

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat.

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you.

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval.

He gives you a small nod.

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind.

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in.

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband.

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself.

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself.

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen.

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip.

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation.

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet.

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere.

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento.

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns.

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?”

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town.

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself..

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens.

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?”

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress.

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.”

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell.

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays.

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words.

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone?

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro.

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways.

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer.

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way.

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being.

The scent of your cunt.

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard.

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned.

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair.

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt.

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

3K notes · View notes

holybibly · 9 months ago

Text

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.

𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.

𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.

You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary," before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed.

Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives. The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner.

"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.

You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted.

It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair.

"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once.

The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.

There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.

The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.

One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.

As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.

"Hello, my dear."

You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."

"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.

Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.

"Something like that."

"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.

"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.

Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.

"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?

"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.

"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.

Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?

"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.

"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.

Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.

"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"

"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."

There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.

His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?

"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."

"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.

"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."

A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.

"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."

"F-Father…"

"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "

You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"

"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.

Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.

"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."

He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.

"Shall I show you?"

"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.

"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"

You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.

He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.

"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?

He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.

"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.

The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.

"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.

He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.

"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.

"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.

"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.

You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.

You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.

"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."

You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.

As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.

"You have to undress completely, darling."

You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.

"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.

You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.

"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.

"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."

The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.

"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.

"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.

"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.

"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."

You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."

It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.

"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth.

Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.

"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.

Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.

He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.

"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.

"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"

You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."

You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.

"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.

"Look at me, my darling."

Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.

Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.

"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.

"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.

"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.

God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.

From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.

He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.

"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."

You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.

He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.

"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."

He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.

"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.

"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.

All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".

"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."

Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.

You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.

"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.

You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.

Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.

"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."

You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.

"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."

"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.

"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.

"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.

"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.

"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.

You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.

He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.

"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.

With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.

"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."

He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.

Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.

And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.

"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."

From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.

"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.

"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"

You lowered your eyes in shame.

He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.

"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."

"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."

"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."

Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.

It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.

"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.

"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.

He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.

"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.

"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.

Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.

"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"

"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.

"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.

Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind. "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."

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