WARNINGS: Heavy smut, Bruno is a priest, Religious kink, Dirty talk, Explicit language.
Also on AO3 (my pseudonym is RavenclawBiologist)
You didn’t consider yourself to be a strongly religious person. Yes, you grew up in a catholic family and went to church every Sunday ever since you were a child, but you never felt a strong connection towards religion itself. Truth be told, you had mixed feelings about it: sometimes you found shelter in the words of the Holy Bible, some other times you questioned everything that was written in it, but especially you questioned the church’s rules. The fact that women couldn’t become any more than a nun while a man could aspire to become Pope made your nose twitch in disapproval, and that thing about not being able to divorce one another because the church believed it to be a sin? At your eyes it was simply ridiculous. God would never want to see someone suffer in an unwanted marriage or to be degraded, so why impose any rules? You couldn’t suffer those rules. You thought they were useless, without any logical meaning hidden behind them. They were there only to prevent people from committing ‘sins’ not even the Bible considered as such.
But still, even though you looked down on all those restrictions, you couldn’t help but feel guilty at God’s eyes. Because what you felt was considered, indeed, a sin by the church and you couldn’t help but wonder what your parents would have thought of the blasphemous fantasy that kept playing in your mind. But most of all, what would the protagonist of that fantasy think?
Not much time had passed since you laid eyes on him, a priest you had never seen before. He was temporarily replacing Padre Garcia, who was now on a trip on his own to raise awareness about poverty outside of Encanto. He was probably in his fifties, much older than you, a little less than a twenty years gap separating you. He was kind of a short man, always wore a long, black tunic when strolling around the town and every time he was confessing in church, and he often kept his onyx hair in a messy bun, which gave him somewhat of a more juvenile attire. He kept his salt and pepper stubble quite tidy and, if it hadn’t been for the few white hair that clashed in a nice way against the raven black colour of his hair, you wouldn’t have given him more than forty-five years. But you soon learned that he was actually fifty, and the fact the he was so much older than you, old enough to be your own father, made your jaw clench every time you replayed all the dreams your brain skilfully built in your mind. Not only he was a priest, no… he was fifty.
Still, even though you tried your best to snap out of your thoughts when the memory of him casting a quick glance at you over the lectern on the altar, you couldn’t help but dwell on the memory of his slender figure talking to the crowd. Everyone was always so bewitched by the words of faith that came out of his mouth every Sunday morning, but you were not. Your attention was somewhere else, somewhere unholy and, more specifically, in the fantasy of his slender fingers hovering over your naked figure, roaming your body and making you squirm under him.
Every time you met his eyes during the ceremony, you were quick to avert your gaze and direct it to your own knees, your hands clasped together as to refrain from getting up, rushing back home, and using them to pleasure yourself in your bed on the thought of those piercing green eyes staring into your soul. He looked a lot in your direction, in the little part of the church where you were used to sit with your family, and you couldn’t quite understand if he sensed your inner turmoil from such a far distance, without even having had a word with you, or if it was just your imagination tricking you and making your brain building unrealistic scenarios.
But yes, you had finally come to terms with the fact that you were infatuated with a priest. A fifty years old priest named Bruno. And his presence in town soon became, if not the only reason, one of the main reasons you came so often to visit the local church, sitting down on one of the benches and praying. It was bad and you knew it. If maybe not to God, who you strongly believed wouldn’t have looked down on you for loving a man, to the whole church and community of Encanto. And you felt awful towards him, towards Bruno, who you were sure didn’t have any desire to be part of your filthy desires.
That’s why that day you finally worked up the courage to bathe yourself, dress up, and go straight to the church after the daily mass, deciding to wait outside for the people to go out and go on with their life. You wanted to confess yourself. You needed to confess yourself because it was only fair. You were quite positive of the fact that God wouldn’t have disapproved of your love towards a man, maybe he would have looked down on you if you hated a man, but not loved one. But still, the thought of you replaying those imaginary scenarios in your head made you feel filthy, wrong, immoral. And you needed to take some weight off your shoulders.
You had waited patiently behind a column for all the people to go out, leaving you alone with him. You gulped as you realized what you were about to do, to confess to him, and you wiped your sweaty hands on your dress as you felt the way too familiar knots in your stomach tighten. He was taking off his green tunic that he only wore for religious functions and he carefully placed it on a small hanger far from the altar. It was when he turned his head that your gaze met his and your body stiffened, frozen into place.
His hair was tied in a high bun as usual, a few wild strands of black hair framing his face perfectly as his lips curved into a hint of a smile when he acknowledged your presence.
“Y/N. Am I right?” he spoke, his voice solemn but still somehow friendly.
You only managed to give a small nod and you forced your feet to move, so your trembling figure approached him slowly, your hands clasping furiously around the handle of your handbag. You had started to sweat and your heart fluttered so hard against your ribcage you wondered if he could hear it.
“Yes. Padre, I… I need to confess.” Your voice was small, trembling even.
“It will be my pleasure to do that. This way.”
You followed him all along the main aisle until you both reached the entrance of the church, then you turned left and you found yourself to be absolutely terrified of what was to come when he opened the door of the confessional for you, waiting for you to get inside, a kind smile curving his lips.
You took in a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm and failing miserably, and you finally sat on the small stool of the confessional, staring at the covered grate that separated your face from his. You didn’t dare to open your mouth until you heard his voice and your heart did a little backflip when it echoed in your ears, so close to you and yet so far.
“Tell me, mija. What can I do for you?”
His voice was deep, but it had somewhat of a juvenile tone. It was velvety, it tickled your ears softly and it felt as if his lips were brushing against your ear, whispering kind words to you. Your breath itched when you felt a sudden rush of heat pooling in the bottom of your belly. You stayed silent for a few seconds, but eventually mastered the courage to speak.
“I-I… It’s very personal.” You stuttered.
“I’m not here to judge. It’s not my place.”
Every word that came out of his mouth was a rush of adrenaline running through your body and you were thankful for that grate separating you from him because your self-control was being put to test and you didn’t know if you could resist much longer.
“And… A-and you are in it. You’re in m-my confession.”
“I thought… I thought of you. W-With me. I… Oh God, I can’t say it.” you trailed off, terror filling your heart once again.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. Go on, tell me what you thought of me.”
You gulped. The tone of his voice had changed, it was low, husky, almost… sultry. You shook your head and your cold hand flew to your face and pressed on your forehead. You muffled a groan as you felt the nice cold of your skin against your forehead.
“Padre, I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to think such despicable things and I tried so hard not to, but… every time I come here I feel heavy. I think of you in ways that… that I know you wouldn’t approve of! And I’m not proud of it and it scares me to tell you, but… I-I pleasured myself, Padre. On the thought of you being with me.”
There, you spilled the tea. And if you thought that confessing your darkest secret to the protagonist of your dreams would have helped you take away some of the uneasiness of the situation, you were wrong. Your heart felt heavier than before, your forehead was beaded with sweaty pearls and you felt as though you could faint any moment. And the brief silence that followed your words surely didn’t help. That was until his voice made your body froze into place.
“I don’t think that’s a sin.” He simply replied, voice calm and soft. “Do you?”
It took every bit of strength you still had in your body to answer, your voice small and uncertain.
“But… But the Bible says-“
“The Bible does not say, mija.” He corrected. “Men say. They say it’s a sin because it takes our eyes away from God, the pleasure of the flesh, it distracts us from our earthly purpose in life… but isn’t loving someone else just what God wants from us?”
You didn’t reply. Your mouth felt dry and your foot had started to nervously tapping on the floor. You were lucky that he was the one to speak once again and your heart stopped when the door separating the both of you opened and you found yourself to be face to face with the main subject of your fantasies, standing tall in front of you and staring at your seated figure.
“I don’t believe in men’s words, I only believe in God’s. And I think that God wouldn’t mind if I laid all my love on you.” he paused for a second and placed two fingers under your chin, forcing you to meet his jade eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned his face towards you, staring deep into your soul.
“I can’t deny I thought about that too. I noticed the way you crossed your legs every time my gaze fell on you, I noticed how red your cheeks would turn whenever I was the one to place the host on your tongue and not a nun.” He whispered huskily and your toes curled in your shoes. “Do you know who Oscar Wilde is, mija?”
You slowly nodded, your lips slightly parted as you felt his thumb brushing softly against them, and eventually slipping inside your mouth.
“Then you must be familiar with one of his most famous quotes. ‘The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it’. I think it’s beautiful. And I couldn’t agree more, not when you’re looking like this under my touch.”
You were so immersed in his words, thirsting over those big, emerald eyes, that you didn’t even realize that you had started sucking on his thumb, your tongue swirling lazily around his finger. That earned a soft, mischievous grin from the man who was standing in front of you, and the intense churning in your core became almost irresistible. You spread your legs just a little, hot wetness already pooling between your legs.
“Have you ever seen a priest praying on someone else apart from God?” he asked and you shook your head slowly, awareness of what was happening inside that confessional finally setting in. But you didn’t dare to stop. If he thought it was okay… so did you. “Well, then you won’t have to wait long to see me worship your essence.”
He suddenly dropped to his knees, your covered legs fully spread as he placed himself between them. His slender fingers roamed your legs, gently grazing your skin and making a cold shiver run down your spine as he slowly hiked your skirt up, up, up… until it reached the centre of your desire and he casted a quick glance over your knees before you nodded slowly, and your head was thrown back when he trailed hot, wet kisses against your inner thigh, starting from your knee and going all the way up to where your leg met your naked flesh. He repeated the motion with your other leg, his gaze never leaving your face for a second.
You instinctively bucked your hips up and an almost desperate whimper escaped from your lips when you felt Bruno’s hot breath against the flesh of your naked core, earning a sultry tsk from the man.
“Look at you. You came here for absolution and you’re so eager to have it you cannot wait a minute.” He whispered between your legs and your fingers flew to his hair, lacing around his locks. “What does a good girl say?”
“P-please…” you begged, eyes half-lidded in anticipation. The centre of your pleasure started throbbing and you felt a drop of arousal dropping down on the wooden floor.
He was so dangerously close to your core it ached. You felt it twitch when a finger gently grazed your outer lips, rubbing soothing circles.
Somewhat of an animalistic growl escaped from Bruno’s lips and he dived between your legs. You almost let out a scream when you felt his hot tongue lapping hard between your sensitive nub and your entrance, his lips closing and sucking on your clit as you tugged on his hair, eyes closed in ecstatic bliss. He sucked your pussy lips, mimicking a kiss, and you had to suffocate a moan with your free hand as he watched over you in delight, a mischievous glint in his eyes that drove you crazy.
His tongue slipped inside your entrance and started thrusting agonizingly slowly, mimicking a real penetration, and his thumb rubbed up and down your slit, spreading the wetness he found there. It soon focused its movements onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving in circular motions, not too fast to hurt you, yet not so slow to make you feel on the edge as his tongue fucked your entrance relentlessly, lapping up your juices that wet his salt and pepper stubble.
A wicked grin curled his wet lips when you bucked your hips up, shamelessly smothering your cunt against his face and you whimpered when you felt your clit brush against Bruno’s nose, but he was quick to silence you as the two fingers that rubbed your flesh flew to your mouth.
You obeyed, eyes closed and lips laced around his digits, and you sighed at the sweet taste of yourself on his fingers. You swirled your tongue around them, sucking hard and drenching them in hot saliva as he was on his knees for you, praying like a sinner on your hot, wet flesh, worshipping your body, your desire, your essence.
He then yanked his fingers from your mouth, leaving it uncomfortably empty. But you felt full once again when both of his fingers slipped inside of you and his mouth returned to your clit, sucking hard around it and making you suffocate a desperate moan.
“You came here for absolution… and you’re leaving in damnation.” He whispered hoarsely as he kept lapping up your juices. “Now tell me… do you want absolution?”
“Yes, what?” he growled and his fingers abruptly stopped pumping in and out of you, earning a whimper from you.
You almost shouted and his lips were laced around your clit once again, making you go over the edge and fall into the never-ending abyss of your orgasm. You straddled his face, smearing his stubble with your wetness as you rode your orgasm, eyes closed in ecstasy. He groaned lowly into your pussy and kept his lips pressed against your swollen petals, waiting for you to come down from your height, not wanting to leave you alone in your pleasure.
It took you some time to even your breathing and for a few seconds your vision was blurred, it felt like the world around you was spinning dangerously fast and you were glad there was the wooden wall pressing against your back because you were sure you would’ve fallen to the ground.
Bruno wiped his mouth with the sleeve of the tunic, still drenched in your juices, and was quick to hold you from under your armpits like he was holding a baby, and gently put you on your feet, his arms a good support for your wobbly knees. His lips grazed your ear and he stroked your hair gently.
“Tell me if you want more, hermosa… if you still feel like you’re a sinner. We can find that absolution you’re looking for together.”
“Yes, Father…” your voice was steadier this time, and even though you were scared your knees would give out, you managed to look him in the eye.
The smile on his face widened and he ordered you to turn and face the wall as he hiked your dress up and up until you were freed of any clothing covering your body. You felt a shiver running down your spine at the cold air brushing against your body, as Bruno’s eyes scrutinized you, scanned every inch of your naked skin deliciously displayed in front of him. That’s when you heard him unbuttoning his tunic, but you didn’t dare to turn your head, not until you felt the heavy fabric falling to the ground and his hardened length pressing against your ass. That earned a low sigh of anticipation from you and you soon found your naked body to be pressed against the cold wood of the confessional, one of his hands keeping you steady in your position and the other flying to his mouth. You heard him spit into his hand and your core started throbbing furiously, blood rushing to your clit.
When he thought his fingers were wet enough – even if there was really no need to lubricate them given how wet you were – he slipped two inside on you and he relished the beautiful, sinful sounds that came out of your mouth. He pumped his fingers agonizingly slow inside of you and that caused you to arch your back, eager to feel more of him. But your yearning was soon satisfied by a wonderful feeling of fullness as his fingers were replaced by the apex of his hard shaft slipping inside of you, a low groan coming out of Bruno’s throat as he did so.
“Oh God…” you muttered under your breath.
“Tsk.” He tutted and stopped abruptly. “Didn’t anybody teach you that you should keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when you’re in a risky situation?”
You didn’t reply, only a desperate whimper coming out of your mouth as you arched your back, trying your best to thrust yourself into his cock, but he recoiled and a teasing grin curved his thin lips.
“Look at you. Tan mojada for a priest and you’re not even sorry, no… So arrogant you think you can disobey me in such shameful conditions.” He grunted. “If your parents didn’t teach you anything… then it will be my personal pleasure to educate you. And to shut that mouth.”
He thrusted in you hard and you almost let out a scream when you felt him throbbing inside you, but it was quickly suffocated by his hand, which flew to your mouth and pressed hard on your lips.
He started out slow, only to increase in speed after a few seconds, and you were grateful he was not trying to go slow and sweet because you didn’t need that in that moment. You needed action, roughness, even pain. And that was what you were receiving. Punishment for the filthy thoughts you had the past days, for the way you spoke about God while you were shamelessly begging for Bruno to slip inside you and ravish you in a confessional.
It was far from a comfortable position: you were crammed against the wooden wall of the confessional, his hand pressing on your mouth to prevent any sound to come out of you, and his hips were slamming furiously against your skin, making your eyes roll in the back of your head and making a loud, slapping sound of skin against skin echoing in the air. But if felt good. Way too good to change position, to turn and look him in the eye as he ravished you. You felt your juices dripping down your inner thighs and his bare chest leaning on your body, making your back arch in pleasure.
“Tell me the truth…” he whispered hoarsely in your ear, voice broken by his heavy breath. “Did you come here for redemption… Or you hoped I would have fucked you like this? F-Fuck…”
You couldn’t reply. His hand was still clamping your mouth shut and the long, desperate moan that came out of your mouth as he thrusted harder in you was enough to answer his question. He grinned wildly and brought his free hand to your clit, rubbing his slender fingers in quick circles around it.
“I’ll grant you absolution, querida… I will-fuck… I will grant you absolution only if you come on me.”
That’s all you needed to hear to make your core tighten around his shaft and your eyes fluttered shut as you came hard, a solitary tear running down your cheek and on Bruno’s hand. You moaned loudly, you didn’t care anymore if someone was there to listen, and that seemed to bring him over the edge too because when his hips stuttered, he rapidly pulled out of you, spraying his hot seed on your naked back as he moaned your name.
You didn’t dare moving. You both stayed still for a while, panting hard as you tried your best to regain your composure. But then you felt his hand pressing on your chin and you were forced to turn, finally meeting again with those jade eyes that drove you crazy. The look in his eyes was everything you could ever hope for: lust, desire, satisfaction, love. The one in yours matched the way you felt in that moment: a walking blasphemy dripping desire from her core. His fingers held your chin up so your eyes were fixed on his and he spoke again, voice velvety.
“I asked if you knew Oscar Wilde before… now I want to ask you: do you agree with Oscar Wilde?”
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