CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER ﹒⌗﹒🕯️ ﹒ ౨ৎ˚₊‧ 도영 + fem!reader
in which . . . you find yourself week after week sitting in the lonely church hall just to catch a glimpse of the town's priest.
contents | priest!doyoung, mentions of religion, sacrilege (smut), usage of 'father' in religious setting, profanity, soft dom dy, oral f receiving, fingering
word count | 3.7k
author's note | dy priest au has been on my mind since the start of time so here it is. nothing about this is holy or proper.
the most exciting thing that has happened in your town for the past 20 years was probably the introduction of your church's new priest. he's young, he's hot, he's a man of god. that's all you really know about him. but what else could you ask for?
it's been 5 weeks since he took over. with the spare time that you get from living in a small town, you'd go over to the church and just sit there quietly. sometimes you'd get a glimpse of father kim walking in and out of the confessional booth, other times, he'd be sitting next to one of the other churchgoers on the bench, talking about what you're not sure.
you never considered yourself a big religious person. but maybe you just haven't found the right motivator, yet.
you're hoping one of these days father kim would come and sit by you. to talk to you.
does that sound a little desperate? maybe. but isn't there that saying, 'all great things are born out of desperation?' maybe you're making things up.
you're sitting at the very back of the nave, overlooking the rows and rows of pews lined up in front of you. the altar holds several candles atop it, all in their own ornate holders. though it's already nearing afternoon, the sunlight barely filters in through the stained glass behind the altar.
you haven't seen any of father kim today, yet. the church is also rather empty, just a few people at the front of the hall mumbling prayers under their breaths.
you hold open your complimentary bible, the thin pages sticking to the sweat of your thumbs. you read the same verse over and over, nothing really going into your head.
you're focused on the feeling of the wooden back up against your spine, and the cold concrete floor. the way it's a little bit too cold in here with the occasional echo of footsteps filling the space. how the hem of your skirt fans against your shins from time to time. in other words, you're paying attention to everything but the words laid out in front of you.
"is there anything i can do for you, miss?"
a voice jostles you out of your daze. you didn't even notice anyone approaching you.
you turn in the direction of the voice over your shoulder, and you're met with the very face you've been anticipating to see all morning.
"father kim," you greet him, half surprised.
he returns a small smile to you, "i've seen you here before, i think," he says. his tone is kind but measured, the voice of someone who has learned to make people feel at ease. "though i don't believe we've been introduced."
"no," you agree. "we haven't."
"well," he folds his hands in front of him, "you're very welcome here. is there something specific that brought you in today, or were you just looking for some quiet?"
the question is gentle, yet precise, he wants to know what category you fall into: grieving, searching, curious, lost. you get the sense he's good at sorting people.
"the latter," you say. "mostly."
he nods, as though that's a perfectly sufficient answer. something in his expression is patient, but carefully so, like a door that's ajar without outright being an invitation.
"then i won't keep you from it." he pauses briefly. "i'm always here, if you ever do need anything."
he turns to leave, but before he can, you speak up.
"actually," you say, glancing down at the open page in your lap, "i was hoping someone could help me with something. if you have a moment."
there's a small pause. you don't look up immediately.
"of course," he says.
he moves to the pew in front of you and sits, turned slightly so he can see the page you're indicating. close enough to be helpful. not close enough for anything else.
"which passage?"
you point to the verse you've been staring at for the better part of an hour without absorbing a word of it. "i'm not sure i'm reading this the right way," your fingertip underlining the words on the page gently.
he looks at it for a moment.
"this one trips a lot of people up," he says, "it's not really a warning so much as an observation. the distinction matters." he pauses, choosing his words with the same care he seems to apply to everything. "it's saying that temptation itself isn't the failure. it's what you do with it, what you allow it to become."
you look at the page as though you're following along.
"so, it's about intent," you scramble for a response, his words not really sticking as much as his voice is. soft-spoken and lenient.
"partly. and partly about attention." he glances at you briefly. "what you keep returning to. what you let take up residence in your mind." he looks back at the page. "the idea being that we're all susceptible. that's not the point of shame. the point is the choice that comes after."
there's a brief silence. somewhere near the front of the church a candle shifts in a draft.
"that's a more forgiving reading than i expected," you say.
something almost amused crosses his face, though he keeps it brief. "we try to be," he replies.
father kim straightens, putting a little distance back between you two.
"does that help?" he tilts his head slightly as he asks.
"yes," you say. "thank you, father."
the polite smile lingers on his face, and you decided to take this opportunity. god knows how many more you'll be granted in the foreseeable future.
"are you busy right now?" you try your best to make sure your voice is unwavering, not letting your deeper intentions seep through.
he pauses, studying the expression on your face, "not especially. why?"
you gesture vaguely at the nave around you, the open door, the occasional echo of someone passing outside. "it's a little hard to concentrate in here. all the coming and going." you let a beat pass, "i had a few more questions, if you had the time."
he looks at you for a moment. not suspicious exactly. just reading. always reading.
"my office is just off the vestry," he says. "it's quieter. if that would help."
"that would be perfect," you say, keeping your tone even.
the room is small and plainly furnished. a desk, two chairs, a narrow window letting in a pale wash of afternoon light. he gestures for you to sit and takes the chair behind the desk.
he folds his hands on the desktop. shelves holding what seems to be ancient books line the walls behind him. a few stacked atop the wooden desk with stray sheets of paper between them.
"so," he says. the warmth is still there, but it's been recalibrated somehow, measured out more carefully. "what else can i help you with?"
and you realise, sitting across from father kim in the thin afternoon light with the door shut and his eyes politely, firmly on yours, that whatever you say next will have to be about the bible.
you open the book in your lap again, more for something to do with your hands than anything else.
"i suppose i'm still stuck on the same idea," you start. "the choice that comes after. how do you actually make it, when something feels–" you pause, as though searching for the right word, "persistent."
he considers this with the same unhurried attention he's given everything else.
"persistent temptation usually means something underneath it hasn't been examined properly," he responds. "most people want the feeling to go away without having to look at it directly. that rarely works."
"so, you have to look at it."
"you have to understand what it's asking of you," he pauses, "that's not the same as giving in to it."
the afternoon light shifts slightly through the narrow window, falling across the edge of the desk between you. you become aware of how quiet the room is. how different it is from the open church, more enclosed, more still.
a silence settles.
he clears his throat quietly. "was there a specific passage you wanted to go through, or–"
"no," you interject softly, "this is helpful. this is what i needed." you close up the bible in your lap, your posture slightly relaxing.
you let the quietness run its course before you pick it back up again, "does it ever get easier, father?" your tone creeping on the edge of questioning.
"rejecting temptation?" he looks at you with a slight raise of his eyebrows. "over time. i hope you find the strength in you to do so."
there's a tangible shift in the atmosphere of this stuffy office.
"how do you do it?" your voice lowers, your eyes narrow ever so slightly at him.
that elicits a soft chuckle out of father kim. he drops his head for a moment before looking back up at you, "discipline. lots of it."
"surely, there have been some moments of weakness in your life, right?" you tilt your head, all the false pretences you've been holding onto now slowly melting away.
you watch as he parts his lips to give you an answer, but you can see the hesitance in his face. "yes," he answers sturdily, "i may have had a slip or two in my life."
his honesty only encourages you to continue down your line of questioning.
“maybe…” you begin sheepishly, “maybe telling me about it will help me learn.”
part of you expected to be shut down immediately. shunned, barred from ever stepping foot inside this church again. but, another part of you knew, however selfishly, that you needed to take this chance and run with it. if you do get shunned, so be it.
to your surprise, father kim doesn’t exactly shut the conversation down.
“well, that’s what i’m good for, right? helping others learn?” he cocks his head a bit to the side, eyebrows raised. “what do you want to know?” father kim visibly relaxes in his seat, his back no longer held perfectly upright, but rather slouched gently against his chair.
"when have you ever given into temptation?" the words roll off your tongue slowly and carefully. you watch his expression, if that question made him feel any sort of way, he did a good job of not letting it show.
he leans his head back against the desk chair, as if he's contemplating how to answer your question. "i tried smoking once, when i was in high school," he gives a light shrug of his shoulders, a look on his face that indicates he knows that's not exactly what you're asking. "can i ask you a question?" he adds before you're able to respond at all.
"sure," you mutter.
"you didn't come here for 'quiet,' did you?" he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.
"maybe not entirely," you admit.
you tuck the book that's been resting in your palms behind you on your seat, but not too fast so that it draws father kim's attention.
"then, how else can i be of service to you?" he leans in towards the desk, hands clasped together on top of it.
you look down at his fingers, studying the way his knuckles interlock with one another. the contours of his veins making an inconspicuous appearance on the back of his hands.
"i guess," your voice falters a little before you regain your composure, "i was looking for some company."
"and are you enjoying the company so far?" father kim asks with a demeanour you've never seen from him before, a minuscule smirk accompanying his words.
you take that as your green light to drop your guises.
“i could think of a better way to spend the time,” you say as innocently as you could. you lift off one of your feet from the ground and gently raise it up towards his calf under the desk. slowly, you drag your foot up against his leg, reaching his knee. the soft linen of his trousers bunching up as your foot moves higher and higher.
father kim firmly grabs a hold of your ankle, restricting any more movement from you. you can see him visibly take in a deep breath as his eyes follow from where your foot has landed all the way up to your face.
he gently sets your ankle back down onto the ground. he doesn't spare you another glance as his fingers go to work unbuttoning his cuffs. in one fluid motion, he pulls his sleeves up to his elbows. catching your gaze again, he whispers, "come".
you took that instruction and stood up. you turn slightly so that your back was facing him, and you sit along the edge of his desk with your palms planted onto it beside you. smoothly, you lift your legs up and over the table, rotating your body so that you're now sitting atop his desk facing him, your knees pressed together. you're leaning your weight back onto your hands behind you.
he runs his palm up and down your calf, then he slowly inches higher. his fingertips going up the length of your thigh, tracing over your skin lightly.
"is this what you've been wanting?" he mutters quietly, eyes looking up at you with a certain darkness.
you couldn't bring yourself to respond, too focused on the fact his hands are touching you in ways that both of you are aware of being beyond appropriate.
"i see you here week after week," he continues, now with both of his palms lightly massaging your thighs, "this is what you're here for?"
a slight tinge of embarrassment stings your chest, partly because of how he's touching you, but also partly because you can't admit the fact that he's right.
"what's wrong?" his face taking on a teasing expression, "you can't confess it to me?" he pushes your knees apart with a gentle force, his thumbs working the muscles of your inner thighs.
his fingertips are nearing your core inch by inch as the seconds pass. the fact that you know this is highly unseemly only makes you want it more.
"come on," he whispers, hands now gripping onto your waist. he rises slowly from his chair. he brings his right palm up to your face, cupping your cheek within it. he leans in towards your ear, "if you don't confess, how will i know you won't sin again?" the coolness of his breath brushes against your ear, sending a wave through you.
he pulls back, now looking down at you. "ask for my forgiveness," he says softly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. "ask, and i'll give you what you want."
your breath hitches in your throat. his face is inches apart from yours, his gaze full of intensity. you can't resist any part of the man in front of you.
"bless me, father, for i have sinned," you mutter under your breath, almost shyly. he tilts your chin up, and you watch as he goes to plant a kiss on your neck. that draws out a soft moan from you which you try to subside by biting onto your lip. "it's been–" you pause as you feel the softness of his lips covering more of your neck, "a long time, since i last confessed," you continue breathily.
he hums against your skin, his hand supporting the back of your head as he continues to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.
"that's alright. go ahead," he mumbles against you. you feel his fingertips toying with the hem of your shirt.
"i've been having... thoughts, i know i shouldn't. about someone i shouldn't." you take in a sharp gasp as you feel his bare fingers on your stomach.
"mm," he hums, as if he's truly listening to your confession with every proper intention. he pulls his lips away from your neck, coming face to face with you again. his eyes drop down to your chest, watching the way it's rising and falling rapidly. "and have you acted on these thoughts?"
"yes," you breathe out.
he grabs onto the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. he tosses it onto the chair behind him. his eyes sturdily fixed onto yours, as if he's searching for any semblance of regret. "and are you truly sorry for it?"
slowly, you nod. you get the sense that's the answer he wanted, despite this being the most unorthodox of confessions.
a smirk appears on his lips. "tell me, what are some of these thoughts that you've been having?" he runs his middle finger all the way from your knee, going up your body, until it lands on your jaw.
the tension that you feel is almost suffocating you.
"inappropriate... thoughts," you divulge.
"be more specific, is someone doing something to you?" his hands roam freely all over your body, as if he could knead the words out of you.
you nod, the embarrassment being almost too much for you to take now.
"what are they doing?"
"touching me," the words escape you through heavy breaths, "putting their mouth on me," there's a long pause following your last thought, "fucking me."
there's a chuckle in his throat, "touching you like this?" he presses his thumb into your cunt, the sudden contact making you groan. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to take his hand away.
he smirks, bunching up the fabric of your skirt together and gathering it at your waist. his fingers draw circles over your panties, some light, some harder.
"you've been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you?" his eyes drawn completely to where his fingers are moving.
you hum in agreement, too overcome by desire to formulate a coherent thought.
"i can tell," he chuckles, fingertips pressing against the wetness of your pussy.
he pushes your panties to the side, "hold it here," his voice stern when instructing you. and you oblige, holding the fabric to the side with your fingers. your bare cunt on display for him, making you feel as though you were completely naked.
he rubs small, gentle circles over your clit, smearing your wetness all over you and his fingertips. he watches intently with his lips parted.
a groan escapes him and he kneels with his knees on the cold, hard ground before you. his lips now level with your cunt. he continues circling your clit with the pad of his thumb slowly, agonisingly slowly.
he watches your body arch, wanting to push yourself harder onto the pressure.
he closes the distance between his face and your pussy, his soft lips planted firmly on your cunt. you feel the tip of his tongue pointedly circling your clit.
you stifle the moans that threaten to spill out of you.
his tongue runs up and down your folds, the lewd noises of it turning you on even more.
you feel him groan against your pussy, as if the very act of eating you out is bringing him as much pleasure as it does to you.
his tongue is lapping over and over at your clit. the tip of his nose pressed firmly against your skin. you look down at him, his eyes shut. you never would’ve imagined him—your priest—in between your thighs, eating your cunt out like it’s the very thing he lives for.
without any notice, you feel a fingertip pushing into you, sliding all the way inside you. you throw your head back, a breathy “fuck” leaving your lips.
“you taste so good,” you hear him mumble faintly. “and you’re so fucking tight.”
that only makes you clench around his finger tighter. you feel him pumping his hand in and out of you, gently at first, letting you get used to it. “is this okay?” he asks softly, eyes looking up at your face to gauge your reaction.
you purse your lips and nod, “mhm.”
your hand finds itself tangled in his hair, holding him in place as you drip down his chin. he slides another finger into you, stretching your pussy out slowly.
he continues sucking on your clit, his fingers stroking against your g-spot as they move in and out. your breath is shaky, unable to hold it even anymore.
you didn’t expect him to be that good with his tongue, and his fingers. but the way he has you shaking and whining is clearly proving you wrong.
“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” you whisper, fearing that if you said it any louder, he’d suddenly stop.
“cum,” his tone rigid, like he was demanding you. “you want to cum for me, don’t you?”
you nod feverously, your core clenching and the pressure building up from within you. you can feel your orgasm within reach.
everything feels ten times more intensified. the way his fingers curl up inside you, the way his tongue feels on you, the moans and gasps that’s been filling the room.
you bite back a scream, your fingers grabbing ahold of his hair harder than probably is necessary. you feel your orgasm unravel, your body squeezing so tight on his fingers. this doesn’t stop him, he continues stroking your pussy, going even faster than before.
it draws out a guttural tone from you, “fuck, fuck, fuck-” you grip onto his wrist, trying to slow him down to no avail.
you feel another wave coming over your body with your cum dripping all over his fingers. your legs begin to shake, bracing for another hit of dopamine to crash over you.
you can’t hold back anymore, whines and whimpers all tumbling out of you as your second orgasm releases.
he holds his fingers still inside you, cleaning up the mess you made with his mouth. he pulls his lips away with a smack, the back of his hand going up to wipe away the excess from his chin.
he stands face to face with you again. your chest moving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. he leans in towards you, putting his hands on the desk on either side of you.
“will i see you back here this sunday?” he asks with a knowing smirk on his face.
“yes, father,” you manage to get out between pants.
