𝓟𝓳𝓶 𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽 (18+)

Christmas Mass (m)

Author: LunaM00nchild.tumble.com

Summary: Every Sunday, like clockwork, as designed and ordained, you sit quietly. Pray. Christmas mass comes, tonight your congregation dresses beautifully, like ornaments placed in a row right in front of God. Your priest stands at the head like an angel atop the tree, commanding and pious and hauntingly handsome. Red. You're a good faithful girl. You were taught to be, punished to be. You pray for respite, for something more than the condemnation this cold and icy town bestows upon you. Sinners. The coldness permeates your bones, you're always scared. Tainted. Terrified of sin, terrified by your thoughts for your priest. Sacrilegious. This Christmas prayers are answered by no God.

Trigger warning: 18+ dark themes, horror, dead body, blood, gore, demons, religion, church, smut, rough sex, sadism, reader manipulation, dubcon, sleep paralysis, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, spit play, edging times a thousand, choking, degradation, dark ending
Word Count: 7.5k
—
CHRISTMAS EVE.
Church bells ring.
Back and Forth, resounding and loud. Hollow echoing, the musical tone spreads out across your small town.
The clanging reverberates like a heartbeat, steadily growing louder with each step closer. You felt the deep vibrations thumping inside you, the church just on the horizon. Like a beacon to others, but to you, to you it felt foreboding. If the church was a beast, the bells were it's roar.
The procession walks so solemnly for such a festive occasion. Snow crunches beneath the throng of churchgoers.
The bells ring.
You hear your own heavy breathing, a familiar hiss in your ear to move out of the way.
"Yes Mother."
The ice and rocks hurt your soles. Your heels are too tight, too constricting around your feet.
The women around you dressed in jewel tones, in their best dresses, faces powdered, lipstick heavy, too much perfume.
The men around you wore coats and hats, warm and cozy, blessings for the breadwinners.
But you, you have to freeze.
In thin expensive material, in painful shoes and compressing undergarments, your hair pulled tight, your face itchy and you can't scratch, lest you ruin your meticulous makeup. The wives clinged to their husbands, shivering in the cold.
You shivered, alone.
You fell further back into the crowd with no man to hurriedly pull you along, to badger you to move faster. God, these women must hate their lives as much as you.
Day one of three.
Three days of this. Three days stuck inside these pious walls. You might as well be one of those bells, aching under strain, always moving and never getting anywhere.
The small chapel was filled.
In every pew, churchgoers stand shoulder to shoulder. Air thick with incense and body heat. You prayed for your soul. This holy communion was not comforting, this was not fun. The only thing you looked forward to was-
Him.
On Cue, Father Jimin Park ascended to the forefront. Draped in gold, angelic in his robes, ethereal in his movements, an icon of faith.
You prayed. You endured the smell of musk and the rising temperature to watch him move across the stage. You listened to his sermon, hypnotized by his voice, in awe of his presence.
He's commanding. Commanding attention, commanding respect. Eyes sharply watching, peering into the eyes of each member of the congregation, he kept his gaze steadfast. You longed for Jimin to notice you, look at you, see you...
It was unfair, you wished to be like him. Father Park was magnificent. You were a nobody, a disappointment of a daughter, unwed, misunderstood. You prayed for what he had. You prayed for his confidence, his passion. His sermons captivated, and when he sang...his singing made you really believe in a higher power.
He's beautiful. Your church's newest Pastor caught the eyes of every woman in town, but he was a man of God. Built like The Gods, more like it. Physique apparent under even the cascading fabric of his robes. But he kept to himself, smiled gently and reproached any woman's flirting. You watched from a distance, too shy to ever strike up conversation, even if you yearned to befriend the distant newcomer, to-
You prayed. He was a man of faith, you told yourself, a man of God. You felt shameful in your longing thoughts.
And yet your thoughts whispered over your prayers, growing more and more depraved. You were captive to the fantasies running through your head.
You tried to focus on Jimin's words, but you thought of his lips instead, full and soft, running gently along your cheek.
You tried to focus on the gospel, but you imagined his sweet voice against the shell of your ear instead, calling your name, whispering vile things the holy man in front of you would never think to say.
You prayed, pulling your thighs together, tight, subduing the ache inside, and focused on the man in front of you. His alluring eyes, his enchanting smile. In your mind his eyes turned dark, his smile turning seductive...
He's sinful. You shook your head, breaking away from your fantasies. You prayed-
You almost jumped when Jimin's eyes caught yours and held your gaze, his smile widening. You felt caught, trapped under a microscope like a bug, on your back, legs spread, about to be dissected.
You couldn't keep your eyes connected any longer, too hot under his stare, letting go of what you wanted desperately. You turned back to your bible, buzzing inside from the moment you shared. You were weak and foolish, just like your parents always said.
"Body of Christ."
You cupped your hands in front, but Jimin raised his hand to your lips instead, smiling again.
The buzzing intensified, so close to him, you were able to admire the new Pastor's beautiful features, able to reach out and touch him. You willed your body to remain calm.
But the heat inside you grew.
It was so shameful, how much you pined for him, arousal dripping between your legs, pooling in your underwear. A transgression you couldn't control, your shame overflowing, sticky against your folds. It was wrong!
You prayed! For forgiveness! For strength!
You held your breath, parting your lips, resting your tongue, you waited for the sacrament. Father Park stood elevated above you. It was overwhelming, how he towered over you.
He bent down closer.
You suppressed a shudder when his fingers pressed down on your tongue, surprised by the accidental graze. His small touch had your body reeling. You screamed your prayers in your head.
"Blood of Christ."
You reached for the chalice as Jimin lifted the cup to your mouth. Your body froze as his adept fingers guided your jaw, tipping your head back to drink the red wine. Your sick fantasies resurfaced, thoughts of his hands all over you, caressing your jaw just as he did, wrapping around your throat, reaching inside of you, pulling you apart, bruising your body as his.
Jimin smiled sweetly down at you, eyes sparkling with warmth. You were distraught, heated by his attention, sinning in front of the eyes of The Lord, a weak heathenous woman, a sinner-
"A-Amen."
CHRISTMAS DAY
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."
"Y/n?"
"Father P-Park?"
"Forgive me, these should stay anonymous, but I recognized your voice. You seemed troubled the other day in mass."
You kept quiet, too scared to speak. How did he recognize you? You've barely spoken to him, except in your confessionals. Had he known it was you all along?
"Are you still having your night terrors?" He had.
"Oh. Um y-yes." You called them nightmares when you asked for The Lord's forgiveness, but they were worse, dreams fueled by cardinal sin, torturing you for nights on end. "But t-that's not w-why-"
"What is so wrong that you seek out forgiveness on Christmas Day?" His voice was playful, an attempt to calm your nerves, but the thought of answering him made your stomach turn.
How could you tell him you needed reprieve from your lust-filled thoughts, when he was the subject of your desires? How humiliating. So you improvised.
"I-I want to run away."
"Run?" This peaked the pastor's attention, "From what?"
"This town!" You cover your mouth in your outburst. Looking over to the curtain, you try to make out the expression of his shadowy figure to no avail. "From m-my f-family," you exhale. "I just - I just feel like I'm meant for more. I'm so tired - I'm so sick of this place. I hate it," you spit out.
There's silence behind the pleated curtains, a softness to Jimin's words once he finally speaks. "Hate is a strong word."
"I'm sorry," you apologize immediately. However, you meant what you said, you felt the truth behind your words as soon as you spoke them. "I want to leave, but my parents-" You scoff at the realization, running away really would be your only means to escape this town. "They would never allow it. I-I'm an adult, I should be able to make my own choices, live my own life-"
"It is only natural for a parent to want to shield their child, try to understand it from their perspective."
"I-I'm sorry, please forgive my transgressions." Your heart rate quickens, you bit your tongue and waited for your penance, keeping your thoughts to yourself. A devout man like Father Park could never understand the doubts you held.
Jimin sighs, "You are wise to stay. You are very blessed, I have only just come and I see the opportunities here." What opportunities could be in this slowly decaying town? "The world is full of dangers that could lead sweet girls like you astray."
Your chest tightens, anger bubbling up inside you. Rage so sweet, another opportunity for Jimin.
"Have you spoken to your parents about this?"
"They'll never listen-" you say bitterly.
"Try."
—
You cried, walking the quiet streets of your town after fighting with your mother. The bitter cold was nothing compared to the bitterness inside you. Why couldn't your parents see your unhappiness? They were as blind as their faith, and as judgmental too.
You were tired, yet this small freedom you didn't want to let go. You walked the edge of the town, wishing for the courage to step over it's boundaries once and for good.
"Father Park?" A man stood under a street lamp, illuminated by the yellow glow. When he turned, his beautiful face was unmistakable. He dressed in black, so different from his long white robes. The signature white collar of his priesthood around his neck.
What was Jimin doing on the edge of town? So far away from The Church, which sat at the town's center. "Aren't you cold?"
"I'm used to it, I've lived in colder areas," he smiles, folding his arms, his forearms bare, the sleeves of his black dress shirt folded up despite the cold. How is he not freezing? You hugged your body, you could feel the coldness through your coat into your bones. "You should go inside, y/n. You'll catch a cold."
His hands run up and down your arms. It was a kind gentle gesture. The thoughts that followed were not.
Jimin noticed your bloodshot eyes, "What's wrong?"
You shook your head, pulling away. "I-I'm fine, sorry I bothered you." You turned to leave, but his hands remained on your shoulders, yanking you back.
"Wait! Here, come sit down."
You could feel the bench's cold metal frame through your clothes, Jimin's warm body pressed close to your side. You wanted to lean into his warmth further, but held steadfast in shame, for your body was seeking more than just comfort.
"Why are you out here all alone? You know it's dangerous to walk alone in the night, even on The Lord's Day."
You laugh softly, "I very much doubt this night could get worse."
Jimin frowns. "This does not have the discretion of a confessional, but know I am here to talk, if you'd like."
You stay silent, holding back unshed tears.
"Y/n?" His finger pulls at your chin, shocking you out of your stupor. "Please talk to me. I want to help. I would be remiss if I left a pretty young woman crying alone on Christmas Day." He speaks softly, soothingly. It made you feel worse, the pity he was giving you. It was pitiful, how you were acting.
"I-I'm sorry. I've just had a fight with my parents. I'll be okay, don't worry. I-I'm fine." You hope he believes your wavering smile, the excess cheer in your voice.
"Let's go inside, c'mon, before you catch a cold. I think we've both hidden for too long."
"No, I'm f-fine-" You didn't want to go back yet, back into the stuffiness of your room, stuck like a prisoner.
His fingers interlocked around yours, pulling you up. "Then come with me, let's go to the church."
You followed him obediently, like a lamb to slaughter.
The streets were empty, everyone gone inside their homes, doing what you should be doing, spending the holiday with their loving families.
Instead you walked in the darkness. The night was still. Serene in your mind, the pastor's presence made the quiet feel pleasant, the deserted town feel quaint.
You walked slowly back into town. The darkness of the winter gradually brightened along the path. Father Park did not let go of your hand.
You shifted your eyes down, unbelieving of your circumstance. You knew he was only doing this out of pity, you knew it meant nothing, but your heart wouldn't listen. Your heart jumped inside your chest with each step and swing of your connected wrists.
The church felt so empty now, the smell of incense gone, a cool draft wafting over the pews. You followed Father Park inside, straight to the Church's altar. He held your hand still, much to your delight. At the head of the church, you looked back, to see what he sees every weekend.
He pulled you further. You walked along the walls, past the crucifixion. Behind the large cross there were a hidden quarters.
—
"Are you thirsty? There's not much here but wine, but it will warm you up." He poured two glasses.
"T-Thank you." Inside the small backroom there was only one seat at the table and a small cot in the corner. You stood awkwardly. Should you sit on the bed?
The red liquid burned your throat, you could feel it trickle down to the pit of your stomach, warming you instantly. This was much stronger than the watered down communion. You held the cup to your heart, letting the warmth cascade down your limbs.
Father park smiled sweetly, leaning back on the old wooden chair, legs extended and spread.
"What to do with you."
"S-Sorry?" You look up immediately, startled that you had been caught looking at his body.
His expression changed, before you could properly understand, before you could realize his ulterior motives. He smiled warmly at you again. Father Park Jimin was smiling at you, seeking out your company, one of the most beautiful men you've laid eyes upon. Was it a Christmas miracle?
The coat you wore felt too warm now, you pulled it awkwardly off your body. You still wore your church dress, your shoes changed to more comfortable boots. You ran a shaky hand along your brows, smoothing down your eyebrow hairs and wiping away the growing perspiration, shifting your weight between your legs.
"Here, sit." Jimin stands, offering you his chair.
"Oh! No, it's alright."
Jimin has already moved the chair to your side, he sits against the table instead.
You should have just taken a seat on the bed.
This position was much worse. You kept your head awkwardly tilted up, scanning the room. It was so bare and empty compared to the church's decorated walls, covered in artifacts, in this room only hung one lone cross, tilted on its axis by a missing nail.
You let out a strained breath, looking anywhere but the man in front of you, his thighs spread, leaning back across the table, looking like a picture of relaxation. But you, you are more tense than ever. You kept your legs crossed, your body folded into itself. You didn't want to accidentally brush against his leg, to make him uncomfortable.
You take another sip of the wine. "Can I ask you a question?" Jimin asks. You nod. "You have no husband. No boyfriend, at least from what I've noticed during mass-" You didn't know whether to feel elated by the fact that Father Park had noticed you, or humiliated that it was glaring obvious that you were alone. "Is that one of the reasons you want to leave?"
"N-No. I just want more, to see the world."
Jimin sighs. "The choir girls like to talk..." Jimin rubs the back of his neck, looking away. "I heard what happened to your fiance, I'm sorry."
You played with the buttons of your dress, looking down. You tried not to stare at his thighs, spread open in front of your trembling body. "It was a long time ago."
Your parents had arranged a suitor for you. He was nice, average, a decent man. He was everything your parents ever wanted for you. It was an easy bland relationship, a perfect union, and then there was an accident-
You thought of the crash many winters ago. The images you tried to forget flashed through your mind.
The red headlights, the tires sliding against the ice.
You came to, cut and bleeding.
Broken glass, blood, clouds of smoke.
When you turned to look at the driver, your fiance, his face...his eyes...his grey lifeless face...his swollen dead eyes...
You screamed, you cried for help. Cold, hurt. The happy life you were promised was over before it began.
You hated yourself, because the horrible truth is you never wanted to marry that man. You prayed. You wanted another chance, you wanted to find real love, but not like this, not this way.
You jumped when Jimin placed a hand on your head.
"I know it might feel like you'll never find someone like him again, but a beautiful girl like you? Just have faith."
"Yes, faith." You gave him a strained smile, but inside you were screaming, just like that day of the crash.
You hated this town, the gossiping, the way everyone needed to know everyone else's business and yet they treated other people's problems like a nuisance, your pain like a nuisance. And now their meddling had reached Father Park.
Now there was no one left in this town that didn't know your sordid past.
How long did he know? Were all those commiserations his way of trying to fix you? Did he see you as broken? It wasn't you, but your dirty little secret that made him notice you?
"I need to get home," you mutter.
You jump up from the chair, and at that same moment Father Park decides to move off the table. Your bodies crash into one another. The awkward scramble to right yourselves lessens the tension for just a bit, only a little, a small laughter shared between you and gentle hands adjusting each other. But when you look into his eyes, you can't help but feel exposed again, dissected into parts, unable to make yourself whole. "I'm sorry, I have to - Goodbye, Father Park."
Without hesitation you run, unwilling to look back or accept that Father Park called you beautiful.
"Excuse me, s-sorry!" you apologized to the man you ran into in your haste, the quiet organ player of your church. He held you steady and your body swayed into his.
"Sorry, I m-must be tired." The day was almost over, you need sleep, you wanted rest now more than anything. Your body leaned against his chest, your eyes growing heavy, you could barely keep them open. Your head rested against his chest, you felt the shake of his soft laughter against your temple.
"Did you want me to take you to bed?"
"Let her go, Min." Father Park's voice sounded so far away, like you were in a dream-
The organ player let you go.
You offered your apologies again, clutching your aching head, and left running.
"She smells so sweet. She's easily corruptible." The organ player stretches his tired body. "When will I get my fun?"
"Quiet Min, let me work." Jimin walks towards Min Yoongi, his oldest friend. He sways down the center aisle in a dance, his palm running along the pews, singeing the wood with each touch, applying small disfigurements to the House of God. He grins in satisfaction.
"Your methods take so long," Yoongi yawns. "How tiresome."
"I disagree, I think the hunt is the best part." He smiles wickedly, swinging his arm over the organ player's shoulder. "A small push here and there to weaken her bit by bit," Jimin dances his fingers in the air as if he were stroking keys on a piano.
He inhales deep, eyes rolling in the back of his head, groaning loudly. "I can smell her desperation from here. You could never understand the thrill of the chase!" Jimin laughs, the echoes carry through the empty church like a distorted melody.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, "I prefer to use my energy where it counts. It could have been done tonight."
"Do you pick a fruit before it's ripened? She is so close to letting her lust consume her, and then she'll be mine!" He rolls his tongue across his teeth, sighing from the thought.
Yoongi scoffs, "Ours."
—
That night your dreams came back.
It was always Father Park at the center of your fantasies. This time your thoughts drifted to the vision of him as he was tonight, in all black, tight clothes, hard muscles. He chuckled in the shadows as your body twisted on its own, aching for relief. Your heartbeat fluttering, ribcage tightening from the pressure of your desire. A vision of him stood over you, his dark brown eyes glowing like amber as he watched you, your twisted fantasy of him slowly undressed for you as you whimpered like a dog in heat.
Unable to speak, unable to call for him or call for help, you could only gasp softly as you watched him move closer to you, slowly and purposefully along the edge of the bed.
"So beautiful. So divine." Jimin moaned your name. Your blanket pulled away, followed by your pants, and then your panties, leaving your body exposed to the cold, nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. The only warmth you felt was the growing ache between your legs as your limbs stayed locked in sleep. Pliable. Ready to be used.
Jimin gripped your thigh and pulled you open. He smiled, reaching for your other leg, pulling you wider, standing over you his heated eyes watched you like a piece of art, studying your splayed out form.
You whimpered, trying to call out to Jimin. His hand on your skin felt so real, a reflection of gentle hands on your earlier, your fantasy twisted the memory into harsh unforgiving fondling.
You panted as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, nails like claws, scrapping along the length of your leg, nails digging into your skin. You're left to grunting helplessly as he scratches along the expanse of your skin, down one leg and up another.
It was just a dream, a figment of your imagination. You knew he couldn't hurt you. Or rather, his pain felt good, a part of your fantasies, like scratching an itch.
Your breathing escalated when his black eyes came closer. A dream, you told yourself, this was all a depraved dream. A version of Father Park your sick mind created, a taunting teasing sadistic version. No matter how real it felt...
His hot tongue ran along your scratches, up and up and up your body. You stayed frozen, tormented like Tantalus, with everything you ever wanted in front of you and still unable to grasp your desires. His toned body seductively moving against you in a sensuous dance. A heaviness veiled over you, heaviness in your groin, no amount of clenching would take away the ache, your body became desperate. You begged your mind for more.
Tears cascaded down your face as you endured Jimin's teasing touches, wishing you had been a more courageous woman when you had your chance. You had wanted Father Park even knowing how forbidden he was, and now your mind was punishing you for it.
His hot tongue ran along your breast, lapping at your sensitive nubs, up your neck, across your jaw, so painfully slow you wanted to scream. He licked away your tears. "Crying for me? Crying for cock? Such a desperate slut." You whimpered as his fingers slid down your tongue, opening your mouth for him.
"Whining to be filled by me? You want me to punish you for all those dirty little thoughts in your head, don't you, slut?" His thumb pressed down, fingers holding your jaw, moving your head to nod.
Your eyes closed, overwhelmed by your desires. Your chest felt heavy, his thighs pressing you down, shortening your breath. Your arousal intensified, you were becoming so wet you felt it on your thighs, sticking to your sheets.
You open your eyes to his legs around you, a devilish grin on Jimin's face, so unlike Father Park's warm smile, this vision of him looked elated, drunk on the power he had over you.
His leaking cock laid over your face, painting your skin with his essence. "This is what you want, isn't it? For me to use you like a filthy whore, yeah?" He laughed at the agony across your features. Jimin took his time playing with you, pulling the chords of your sanity until each one snapped, until you were crazed for him.
Gathering spit, he let it fall on his cock and between your parted lips, fingers wiping the liquid over your cheeks, painting your face with his cum and saliva.
His fingers run along the corners of your wet mouth as he bends over and releases more of his spit into your open cavity. "This is better than the blood of Christ, don't you think?" He laughs, biting his lip, delighting in your struggle. "Swallow, and I'll give you my cock."
He giggles wickedly as you do as he says. "Ahh so perfect! So willing to be corrupted. My sweet little lamb."
Jimin rolled his hips into the wetness of your mouth, pressing deep into the hollowness of your throat. You inhaled his scent as your nose met his skin, he smelled so good, he felt so hard and thick around your lips.
You choked on his thickness with every deep thrust. You were a mess of drool and spit and cum as he used your mouth for his own pleasure. No matter how good it felt to hear his moans, feel his cock slide down your tongue, you ached for pleasure too. You craved release. You needed him.
He released down your throat, his hot cum coating your mouth, your body twitched as your breath was stolen.
You coughed for air when he finally removed himself from your mouth. You felt the coldness of his abandonment. The chilly air wrapping around your sweaty body, you shivered and ached for Jimin as he stood over you watching you again, pumping himself over your spread body.
Jimin slapped the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving a welt across your skin. Your body flinched, a yell came out as a soft whine. Another harsh slap down on your dripping cunt was all you got from Jimin.
Your skin stung with each slap, eyes begging Jimin for his cock instead. Until finally, when you felt the last threads of your sanity unraveling, Jimin plunged his cock deep inside your slick walls, searing your body with remarkable pleasure. You closed your eyes, appreciating the fullness.
"Such a desperate fucking slut," he groans. "Look at you, I bet you could cum on my cock if I stayed just like this." He stayed still against you and no matter how hard you tried you couldn't will your hips to lift. "Not yet, you're not ready yet."
You woke up, drenched in sweat and face messy with tears. You body buzzing and shaking with need. Your limbs now listening, you immediately reached for your core, fingers running over your lips, your clothes drenched in your juices. It was almost immediate that you came, so quick and fast your release wasn't even fulfilling.
You whimpered, maddened, fingers swiping along your drenched core over and over, trying for another orgasm, but your weak fingers were not good enough, and your second release never came. Your body ached, stomach sore, your arms and fingers tired, you cried all night, praying for release. Praying for Father Park to fuck you. So lost in lust and depravity you never noticed black eyes watching you from the darkness, soft laughter in the corner of your room.
CHRISTMAS MASS
"How long has it been since your last confession?"
"F-Father P-Park?"
"Y/n?"
Your insides twisted painfully, sore and throbbing. You felt invigorated that it was him again answering you behind the veil.
You yanked the curtain open, meeting the surprised face of Father Park. He wore silver robes for the special Sunday mass, sparkling like a vision of divinity.
"Father Park, I-"
"Are you okay, y/n, do you have a fever?" His hand reached out to you, caressing your forehead. You pull your lips into your mouth, quivering with despair.
And like a dam bursting, you cry, falling into his silver robes. He runs his hands soothingly along your hair, your back, but his touch felt like fire, and your body burned with need.
"F-Forgive m-me Father, f-for I have s-sinned."
He shushes you, holding you close.
"Go ahead and speak, tell me your sins."
"I c-can't get these thoughts out of my head. I c-can't," you cried.
"What thoughts? Describe them to me." He hugs you closer, arms resting low around your hips. You shuddered in his embrace. Your hands fisted into his robes, afraid you'll pull him to you if you let your grip relax. Idle hands are the Devil's plaything, they say. And right now, your body felt like a doll on a string, moving of its own accord.
"I can't tell you...It's too shameful..."
"The Lord's judgement can be harsh, I know that scares you," he whispers soothingly, "But there is no judgement from me here. You can trust me, y/n."
You looked up, into Jimin's eyes, now so close from your proximity. His eyes looked at you caringly, searching yours for answers. You breathed in his smell, his scent conjuring visions of your dreams. His lips so close all you needed to do was lean over.
You moved away quickly, pressing yourself into a corner, unable to look Father Park in the eye.
You squeezed your eyes closed. "I h-have lustful thoughts."
"Be specific, I can't help you if you don't talk to me." You felt his body move closer.
"I have lustful thoughts about you!" You wail, head in your hands.
Jimin slowly pulls your hands away from your eyes, lifting your chin...
"And what lustful thoughts do you have of me, Sweetheart?"
He is so close, body now pressed against you in the tiny confessional. He didn't seem upset by your confession, instead he waited patiently for you to answer him.
"You're touching me. I'm so sorry, I-"
"Where am I touching you?" He holds the back of your head, so you can't look away. So you have to meet his eyes when you tell him.
"Everywhere. Everywhere on my body," you whisper, entranced by his deep piercing eyes.
"Exactly where? Touching you on your shoulders?" His palms rest on each shoulder blade.
You shake your head, biting your lip so hard you taste copper. You shift uncomfortable, already wet again.
"Y-you're touching my breasts-"
You gasp when he moves his hands from your shoulders, placing them atop each breast, gripping your mounds tight, almost painfully.
You cry out involuntarily, a hand covers your mouth to stop your sounds, smacking your head harshly into the wooden wall of the confessional, his other hand never slowing down, pulling and kneading your breasts. You moan into his palm, whimpering, eyes wide with shock, unable to think, unable to make sense of what's happening. You can't believe it, Father Park is sinning, with you.
"Where else do I touch you in your thoughts, Sweetheart?" You can't answer him with his hand tight against your mouth. "Do I touch you here?" His hand harshly grips your thigh. Digging into your flesh. You nod your head against his palm, wide-eyed.
"Do I touch you...here?" His thick fingers press inside you. Your entrance is so wet and slippery, three fingers glide in, your walls easily stretching around his digits. Your wetness doesn't stop the pain from erupting at the intrusion. You moan and whimper against his palm, body seizing, twisting between the wall of the confessional and Jimin's body.
"You think of me touching you right-" his eyes lower to your core, "-here, yes?" You quickly nod, head thrown back, tears of pleasure escaping the corners of your eyes as he pumps his digits harshly in and out of you. He finally removes his hand from your mouth. You grunt, shakily exhaling, whimpering as his fingers delve in deep. It was easier when you didn't have to try to silence yourself and Jimin was doing it for you.
His body pressed in closer, as he whispered into your ear. "What else happens in your sinful thoughts, hmm? Do I fuck you?"
"Y-Yes."
You yelp as his hand grabs your face harshly, pressing your cheeks together, squishing your lips into a perfect O. You looked up into his eyes peering down at you, Jimin scrutinizing each labored breath you took. He kisses your open mouth, his tongue pressing in deep, stealing the rest of your air. His thumb began rubbing deep circles into your bundle of nerves, leaving you shaking, desire overtaking your surprise.
Suddenly, Father Park stops his ministrations. "Quiet Angel, or we'll get caught. What will the town think of you then?"
You were close to combusting under his pressure. "Please F-Father...I-I want to cum."
Jimin presses his nose to your throat, inhaling you deeply. Your desperation smelled so sweet to his senses. "Not yet, think of it as penance for your sins. See you tonight, y/n."
And before you could react he pulled away from you, drawing the curtain back. When you moved, searching him out, the confessional was empty alone for you.
'Tonight...'
—
Your legs shook as you walked amongst the procession in your Sunday best. The winter wind stung your skin, the tips of your fingers felt like ice, but your body felt heated inside, your core throbbing.
You stop just shy of The Church's entrance, watching as the procession marched inside.
You tried to make sense of Father Park's actions. He was like the man in your dreams, so ruthless, rough, unmerciful. It had felt so good.
You were scared. Something told you to leave. You almost turned on your heel and ran, but the desire for his touch pulled you in again.
The church was packed once more. Every row full, every seat taken, except one. You moved to the empty spot next to your mother. She scowled at your tardiness as you adjusting your body to fit in the crowded space.
The congregation stood up, the women dressed in extravagant clothes, dressing to outshine one another. You wore your favorite dress. It wasn't for God, no it was for-
Him.
Father Park walked in shining, draped in those silver robes you had clutched to in your desperation. He stood in front of the entire congregation. Angelic. Commanding. Beautiful as sin.
One look at him and your body responded. Your insides churned, your stomach tightened, you felt your aching core becoming slicker. You laid your head against the front pew, praying on your knees.
Your thoughts drifted to him all night, heightened by the memory of the confessional. You felt yourself slipping into a lust filled haze, your desires running wild, you couldn't catch up, you couldn't stop them, you were stuck in an impossible race.
When it came time for communion, you could no longer stay idle.
You left.
You ran.
At the edge of town, you stood.
You stood, unable to move for hours, too scared to go forward, to pitiful to go back.
Father Park's words rang in your ears, 'What will The Town think of you then?'
This goddamned town was all you ever knew! You tried to muster up the courage to leave it now, praying for strength. You clenched your jaw, holding in a scream. God never answered your prayers, why would he now?!
You waited. You looked back one more time, you feared it would be now or never.
You turned to the forest and then you saw something that changed your decision. You had waited too long.
Pairs of red orbs began circling closer to you in the darkness.
Frightened, you ran for the only home you ever knew. Then you thought of your parents and stopped just shy of your destination. If you couldn't feel safe at home, what were you to do?
The only place left to go was...The Church.
—
The Church was pitch black inside, Sunday Mass long over, you were all alone.
Your heels clicked on the wooden floorboards as you walked inside. Then like magic, the candles around the walls caught aflame, casting the church in a fiery flow.
You heard a shift. You turned around, searching for the source of the sound.
"Father Park?" Jimin no longer wore his robes. He stood in front of you wearing a suit of deep red, dark hair lightened to blonde.
"Call me Jimin, y/n."
"Jimin," you swallowed.
"You left mass early," he whispers sweetly in your ear.
You jumped at his sudden appearance behind you, "I'm sorry. I just-"
"I hope it wasn't because of what happened." Jimin licks his lips and places his hands in his pockets, circling your body. "Because you know, I've been thinking about it all day long," he sighs. "How good you felt wrapped around my fingers."
Your face heated at his brazen words. "But y-your vow to God-"
Jimin laughs, appearing in front of you suddenly. "Don't worry about me, Angel. I'll just ask for a little absolution. See, that's the wonderful thing about your god, a little Hail Mary or two and-" You squeak as Jimin appears behind you again, gripping your fingers, waving your hands in the air, bringing his lips together with a pop. "All is right again. It's almost like, hmm," he lays his chin against your shoulder, "it's too good to be true."
You swallowed down your growing fear. "I don't understand what's going on, Father Par- Jimin."
"Then let me show you." He wraps his arms around your middle. Yanking you to his front.
In that instance, his tug felt otherworldly.
You looked around at the stained glass windows illuminated by red moonlight, then back at Jimin. You almost screamed when you noticed his black eyes.
Pushing him away, you run towards the doors, but they shut abruptly, the bang echoing through the empty church.
"Oh little lamb, did you think I'd let you go now?" he tuts, "I've just gotten started."
"Please...don't hurt me."
"I would never," he whispers, caressing your cheek. "Your pleasure is more valuable to me than your pain," he says, eyes dark with desire.
"Now, drink." Jimin grins, pulling a chalice from behind his back, making you jump. "You missed your Communion." He lifts the glass in mock cheers. You reach for the glass and he pulls away teasingly, taking a long drink. He drops the chalice on the floor, letting it bounce and roll away as he stalks closer to you.
You stand frozen, too scared to disobey. The way he watches you, you felt staked to the ground, unable to move from his penetrating gaze. He lifts your chin, pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss, parting your lips with his own. You felt the warm liquid fill your mouth, searing your throat. You pull away coughing.
"This is not real, this is not real," you cough, wiping your mouth. Have you finally let your fantasies turn into delusions?
"This?" You jumped as Jimin gripped your hips, pulling you into him. "Is not real?"
You looked into his black eyes as they turned back to the familiar deep shade of brown you remembered. Jimin held your hand in his, bringing your fingers to his soft lips, you watched as he licks the tips of your pads, wetting your digits with his mouth, he closes his eyes in bliss. "This doesn't feel real?"
You couldn't help but moan at the sight, and he then dragged your fingers under your dress, to your core, running along the wet fabric. "Lace?" Jimin chuckles, "What a sweet sweet gift for me." He presses your fingers together, entering inside you, guiding you in and out.
"When your ex-lover died in your arms, what did you feel?" he murmurs against your temple, softly kissing your cheek.
"I felt...happy." The words left your mouth without thought. It was something you tried to deny over and over, a feeling so deep inside you, so unlike you, you couldn't trust it. "No! I d-don't know."
Jimin tuts, pressing his fingers in deeper, "Naughty naughty, what happened to your honesty?" His licks the lobe of your ear and you felt his undeniable pull again.
"I f-felt free."
"Good girl," he whispers, "You prayed so loud, it was hard to ignore."
"Please..."
"Your cries brought me here, little lamb. You wanted passion did you not? You wanted more than that boring old dud of a man could offer, hmm?" Jimin pulls your fingers out of you swiftly, twisting your wrist, gripping your hair, he yanks you closer to him.
What have you done?
"Mmm you smell so fucking sweet!"
You swallowed hard, "What do you want from me?" You try to pull away but he yanks you by the hair back to him.
"It's not what I want from you, little lamb," he laughs, his eyes back to the horrifying shade of black. "It's what you want from me. I'll give you what ever you desire, you just have to say the words."
"No! Stop!"
"What do you want, y/n?" He moves closer to you with each word. You retreated until you could no longer, legs hitting the alter. "What do you desire?"
You tried to fight it but his enticing scent filled your head, his sweet words wrapped around you like snakes, slithering across your skin. "What do you pray for at night, when you're all alone? In your bed?"
He stands so close to you his nose bumps into yours, staring into your eyes, his hot breath on your skin.
"Please, kiss me."
Jimin smirked, lips hovering over yours.
And then he fell to his knees, lifting your dress, placing a kiss on your mound.
You legs give out as he pushes the lace away from your core, pressing his lips to your clit. You grip the altar's edge, holding yourself up as Jimin lays greedy kisses against your core, drinking in your wetness.
You cry out, falling back as Jimin lifts your body up, placing you atop the altar, his lips never parting from your center. He works his mouth over your sensitive bundle of nerves, your back lifts from the altar as he fucks his tongue into you, holding your legs over his shoulders. You moan and shake, body practically upside down, the blood rushing to your head. Jimin's skillful tongue brings you to the edge of ecstasy, stopping before you ascend.
"Please, don't stop," you plead, at the end of your rope.
"Give your soul to me and I'll never stop giving you pleasure. I'll be yours forever."
"Yes! Please!" You were tethered no more, your lust was too great.
"You sure little lamb? Tell me how badly you want me."
"Yes! I want you, Jimin, I need you!"
"You'll give up your soul all for me?"
"Yes!" You cry out desperately. Your rope had snapped, and tightened itself into a noose around your soul.
You sealed your fate, giving into your lust. Jimin had you now and for all eternity.
"Your soul, your body, your cunt is mine."
"Yes, yes!"
—
Your body shakes, covered in sweat, your legs spread wide while Jimin rolls his hips. You lie on your back, naked, moaning his name. Jimin digs his nails into your sides, pulling you over his thick cock, rattling the altar table as he defiles your body over and over again.
You didn't care how much your muscles ached, how sore you felt, the place where your bodies connected, the scorching pleasure you felt there was all that mattered to you anymore.
You lost count how many times you came on his cock, Jimin's demon body had never-ending stamina, and your cries only fueled him further. He came over your thighs, painting your skin in white, and swiftly turned your body around, pressing his hard cock back inside your swollen cunt. Your body dragged along the table cloth, smearing your chest and stomach in a pool of cum.
You came violently, screaming, shaking around his cock. Jimin fucks into you, in and out, never stopping.
"You belong to me, y/n," he growls, pistoning into you rapidly, "Tell me!"
"I belong to you!"
He thrusts in deeply, pulling your head back, lifting your body flush against his chest. "And now that you're mine, I'd like you to meet my friends," he whispers into your ear.
He smiles against your clammy skin as your eyes scan the room. Appearing from the shadows, six men stand, handsome faces darkly watching you fall apart on Jimin's cock.
"We can give you all the pleasures of life," he whispers. You recognize the face of one of the men, the organ player who meets your eyes and smirks at you, licking his lips, eyes roaming over your naked cum covered body.
Even as your mind went blank, the cost of your sinfulness weighed heavy on your heart.
Your Christmas prayers had been answered, but you were now trapped in this desolate town forever