#and there’s a couple fanfics I’ve read | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missfrustration · 16 hours ago

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sins and sacraments (priest!sanji x succubus!reader 18+ fanfic)

rating: rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, smut, dubcon, rough sex, fingering, priest!sanji, priest au, succubus au, priest kink, trashy as hell, power dynamics, power struggle, biting, scratching, cigarette burning, some blood, bondage, tears, succubus scent and poison, inaccurate catholicism, not so chivalrous sanji

A/n: This is genuinely the craziest shit I've written. dubcon to the max, dont like dont read!!! i drew some fanart for this, dont look at the hand proportions too hard. on ao3 here!

wc: 7.1k

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This house in the hideaway stow of the county was one of your favorites to live in whenever you liked to find men from the area. Maybe it was the old-money interior and classic oak spaces that made it stick with you. Regardless, it’s always been the perfect place to lure your prey in.

That was until recently.

Some puny humans have ‘bought’ the thing since the last time you’ve left the area, and have destroyed the place beyond anything forgivable. It seems a mortal husband and wife is treating the house like it’s theirs , tearing up all the lovely decorations from older times into disgustingly awful palettes of teal and yellow. Treating your place with such little disregard, talking about how happy they are to get a house and raise their grandchildren within.

You’re a succubus. Obviously, it’s not your style to haunt humans, much yet married couples—playing defense is unheard of for you—but after the first day that you surveyed them, it’s clear that they need to be taken care of. You certainly had some time on your hands, and enough strength from the last set of victims to kill them, but camping around and scaring them away instead was certainly a feat you were willing to challenge.

At first, it started with random things falling over, whenever they weren’t looking, you’d find a vase, a lamp, or even a grandfather clock, that would make enough noise when pushed to irk them. You eventually find out the wife really hates the bumps in the night whenever she is alone. One particular night while the husband was away, you made her so scared she fled to the bedroom and started shivering under blankets for days. The husband would wave his gun around when he suspected something, but they’d never find you fast enough.

They departed a week ago, only hastily packing a couple of suitcases before leaving. Finally, the whole house was abandoned yet again to your ownership. While it’s strange how they didn’t pack anything other than a few clothes and jewelry, the thought of it being anything other than a hasty runaway never occurred to you.

Those were your suspicions up until now. You were lounging around your reclaimed house, wearing one of the missus’s dresses and prancing near the large top-floor window when something caught your eye.

It’s a car from a meager wage that suddenly pulls up on the lot— your lot, the one you’ve put insurance in keeping empty the past couple of weeks—as you watch from the sanded window.

You saunter down the stairs, straightening the pleats of the dress’s yellow skirt, and feeling the role of the clothing’s owner when you open the door.

“Good evening, Father, how may I help you?”

A priest looks into your eyes, smiling so warmly at you. A familiar book in his hand, one with leather worn on the outskirts of the surface and worn on the spine. He wears a priest’s clock with a thick cincture wrapped around a cinched waist, a Roman collar, and a long skinny stole hanging down from around his neck.

This dedicated man of God stands before your devilish domain, yet there’s certainly a need for you to act cordially. Maybe it’s a perverted sense in you to pretend to be an innocent housewife, but a change of pace in getting a new victim is always welcome.

“Father Sanji,” he smiled. “I’ve come on behalf of the church for the family of this house.”

“This is the family you're speaking to.” You say sweetly, clasping your hands together. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I've come upon request to remove a demon lurking in these walls, apparently one that’s been plaguing you since you moved in…” The father cocks his eyebrows at you, looking you up and down. “Surely you must know this?” He says, the smile never falters from his face. His words cause a perfect excuse to fall from your lips in gracious favor.

“Oh, why, of course. My husband loves to tell tall tales, no matter who he wraps up in after it. you’re free to look around, but I’m afraid you won’t find anything.” With a giggle and a twirl of your hand, you feel the posture of Father Sanji standing straighter.

“That's all the permission I needed, madam.”

You step back and open the door wide, allowing the man into your territory. He makes his way to the kitchen quickly when you offer him a cup of coffee.

You’ve never made coffee–you wouldn’t have even found the stuff for it. However, you found it after whisking through a few cabinets with a stroke of luck. The canister labeled ‘ground beans’ had only enough sediment to cover the bottom of the tin.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Father Sanji asks you by the doorway of the kitchen.

“Usually, I would say no, but you're handsome enough that I’ll let it pass.”

A pause.

“How nice of you.”

He retrieves a pack of cigarettes from his hand, one with a packaging exterior foreign to you. He ceremoniously shakes one before popping it out, taking a match from the matchbox across the kitchen stove, and flicking the flame until the end of the cigarette begins to cherry.

You fiddle with the kitchen’s chunky coffee machine while he’s distracted.

“I take it your husband isn’t home?”

“I’m afraid so,” You say, “he’s been out for business the past couple of weeks, and it’s been so lonely. I’m glad to have some… eye-catching company.” You leave a lingering whine on ‘company,’ eyeing the priest’s presence. He’s more attractive than the others, and certainly more thrilling if you wrap him around your finger just right; not to mention the power you would acquire from his body.

“Is that right…” He trails off. You busy yourself with the machine. In the corner of your eye, the father finds a tray for ash on the counter, flicking the dead end of his cigarette before puffing again.

You ignore his comment. As you finish your business with the coffee machine, you hear the water inside start to bubble. You turn towards him, idly leaning against the counter and arching your back. You meet eyes again.

“Are you sure you're a priest? You look far too handsome for the role.”

Sanji blushes, fidgeting with the buttons of his cloak before clearing his throat.

“I am indeed of the cloth, madam. It is the path that was laid before me.”

You hum to yourself, saying one of your most ill-suited thoughts out loud. “A handsome man like you is wasted on celibacy.”

You let the words on your tongue fall into the quiet air. The priest's demeanor doesn’t change; he stands still momentarily before reigniting his warm smile.

“My beauty is merely a gift from God.” He pauses, looking out the window as he lets his cigarette burn on. “It's the same for all mortals, I would venture.”

He seemed to have added that last thought of his– a very strange thing to say, but priests of this era may be just that.

“If we think on that basis,” You hum, “Life is too short. Perhaps you should live a little.”

He pauses, eyeing you down conspicuously.

“Do you usually flirt with men when your husband’s not around?”

You hide a conniving smile. The coffee starts to brew.

“Depends, does it seem to be working?”

“I would be called a liar if I said no.” He says, absentmindedly blowing the smoke. Your smirk grows.

“Perhaps you should stick around, then.”

You move closer to him, choosing to be in his intimate space as you search his body for cracks–for more hints you’ve gotten under his skin. You run your long, glossy nail from his chest to the seam of his Roman collar before Father Sanji grabs your wrist. You try to move to his neck, planning to scratch the tender flesh, but he gives you no room to do so. The force is unbecoming compared to his gentle voice.

“I think I found what I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh? What would that be, Father?”

He pulls you close, surprisingly gentle, enough to make his soft words clear. The kitchen is silent for a moment, enough to hear the gentle wind outside knock the leaves against the house.

“You wouldn’t happen to be that demon, would you?”

That gentle tone isn’t hiding any more secrets. A wry laugh escapes your lips.

“I didn’t know priests liked jokes so much; otherwise, I think I’d be offended.” You try to gently pry from his grasp, leaving much of your sultry voice to falter. A firmness in his grip doesn’t dissipate, rather, it seems to extend.

“Oh, my dear.” he takes your hand, threading the fingers together with his. “You know what I mean.”

His eyes. They tell you exactly what you need. In the hues of blue and gray flecks, there’s a glint of malice. His lids are low, his lips purse, and a bruising grip on your hand; he knows you’ve been deceiving him.

You yank your hands away with a vigorous strength that disconnects you two, turning your heel to get out of his clutches. However, he’s already behind you, pinning you against the teal counter hard enough to fold you over it. He’s a lot stronger than he looks.

Father Sanji sighs. “See, the family who requested my services by letter is out on vacation, something they had to plan rather hastily, strictly so I could perform the exorcism without additional guests. No one should be in the house except, well, you .”

He’s pinned your arm tight around your back, blowing a puff of smoke behind you. You don’t know if the act caused you to feel dizzy or something else, but you immediately feel uneasy in an instant.

“You may think you were so close to tricking me, but you should do your homework first. If you can’t even find coffee grounds in your family house, don’t offer answers you didn’t prepare for.” He chuckles.

So he saw through that, too.

His soft laugh conjures one of your own. However, the tone colored in your voice is completely distinct from the proper one from earlier.

“Maybe you were feigning ignorance so well earlier, and I suppose I’ve been caught off guard. You certainly have a knack for faking someone so taken by me.” You say.

“It’s against the church to lie, my dear, and you truly are a dearie, so I would prefer for you to leave this house by choice rather than force.”

You cock your head at the last part.

“Force?” You mull over, rather surprised at his little bluff. “I love a challenge; the pain tastes of a sweeter victory.”

“I see. It seems I’ll need to be more physical than I would’ve liked.”

“Oh, you want to dance with death that bad ?” You utter softly at the priest. “I don’t think a mortal like you can play with me .”

“Give me your other arm.”

“Like I’d obey you.” You spit.

“So be it, demon.”

You saw the signs he had something up his sleeve before you can react. Suddenly, you feel a searing hot pain in your back, burning past the cloth of your dress, spreading like wildfire throughout your nerves. An agonized bellow came with the disorientation that followed. You try not to make the sound of pain, yet a very unfeminine grunt leaves you in your wake. In the heat of your agony, Sanji takes your arm and cranks it behind you.

“Did, did you just fucking burn me?” You grunt.

“How rude of me. It seems that a bit of cigarette ash fell off. Some that may also contain-“

“Ugh, that wretched stuff!” You grunt. The inside of your throat felt like a husk and your head felt lighter. “Don’t think you can pull your little game off with your church’s backhand trickery.”

“Palo Santo-infused smoke, but yes.” He deadpans, now securing both wrists behind you. “Now, hold still.”

“As if I’d-!” Before you can move, your wrists strongly bind together. Sanji’s hands fly from your arms to your head, slamming it down on the counter.

“Relax, doll, you don’t stand against rosary beads for a while; the papacy recently blessed them before I got here,” the priest says, tapping the restraint on your wrist. “Now, isn’t this a sight?”

You grunt into the ugly teal marble counter, feeling your pretty body squish into the filth. Is this the stuff humans call luxury? Such degradation of an illustrious spirit like you is unnatural from your male targets—no, unheard of. You crank your head to look at him and see Father Sanji’s face burning his eyes back on you. His palm presses down your head, cheek smushing it into the cool tile.

“This is funny to you?” You rasp at him. “Watching me in pain is entertainment?”

“Absolutely not. This, however?” Sanji points to your now-discovered tail with a smug expression, exposed from the hem of your dress and whipping wildly in the air. “I see that I’ve made an impression.”

“What, that some flakey preacher thinks he has the upper hand?”

“Oh, no. That’s not it at all.” Father Sanji’s tone feels as pleased, almost lighthearted by your exasperation, as he watches your pointed tail strike the air like wildfire. “You love this, don’t you?”

“You must be out of your damned mind, puny lamb.”

“Let me show you what I see.” You feel a firm grasp on your hair, now pulling you back to Sanji as you feel pain aching from the crown of your head. Father Sanji has no time to soften the pressure, pulling your body back to his, yet…

“F-fuck, mmm .” The pain hits you just right. You’re surprised by the whimper coming out of your mouth, from the pain, from his assertive clutch on your hair, and the way he’s lifted half of your body with ease.

“You see? There’s a dirty little devil in here, and she doesn’t seem threatened by me at all.” Father Sanji says this with audible satisfaction in his voice, almost taunting. He took a moment to take a long, crackly exhale of his cigarette. Another puff of smoke is blowing your way, his face so close to your nape that you feel sickened by it. ”Moreso, ready to be defiled .”

Suddenly, his attitude makes sense.

“Oh, so the vile preacher does know what type of demon I am?”

“How could I be called a messenger of the Lord if I don’t know the hysterics of a succubus?”

He’s toying with you. So conniving for the plain church.

“And you think you can just dominate a demon of the night? What a naive thing. You’ll lose your life trying.” You growl.

“Don’t get too cocky.”

He flicks more ash on your tail, causing you to screech and writhe. He uses the opportunity to take it in his hand, wrapping it around in his hands before pulling it back. It flails down and now limps under you. In a panic, you try to move it, yet it’s no use. You don’t feel in control of it anymore; sensation is barely left in it.

“While it’s true your kind gets their power from preying on their male targets, I wonder…” He leans so close that his lips touch your ear. “What would happen if the predator was preyed on, hm?”

With sudden force, you feel teeth bite on the tip of your ear. Hard . The sudden force causes your breath to hitch in euphoria and makes your voice pitch dangerously high. When you realize what he’s done, you writhe against him, yet the hold on your body makes the effort futile.

“Ahh! Please, you honestly don’t believe a little human like you could please a succubus at their own game?” You scoff, yet the hands that hold you don’t falter. Instead, they grip you harder , smushing your face further against the marble.

“Is that a challenge? Even when I know your dirty secret…desperate to finish me off first to keep your powers. But,” he trails off, “if you were to be pleased first, maybe you wouldn’t be so lucky, hm?”

No, there’s no way he knows. He couldn’t possibly know.

“You fucking bastard,” you start to struggle more against his grasp. “Release me this instant.”

“Oh, so is it who gets off first?” He asks, and you freeze. Your response is enough of an answer for him, and you hear a content chuckle from behind you. “And here I was just guessing.”

“How the fuck do you—?” You seethed.

“Language.”

Your back writhes as you feel a burning sensation pressing against your shoulder once again. It graces your flesh fast, and more painful than ever.

“The church educates us after indoctrination,” the priest answers your question. “Ah, but not this part.”

Your skin sears with a hiss as he twists the cigarette below your shoulder blade. The sensation is almost intoxicating, searing through the dress and flooding your body with fiery heat, like a blazing aurora. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth while your head becomes dizzy, but a tongue that feels compelled to let out a string of curses, ones that increase consumption of your flesh.

And the priest chuckles at this, while you wildly fight against the restraints he’s put on you.

“You must learn to control your tongue,” he says, his voice smooth like honey. “You’ve been around for a while, little imp, but I can tell you’ve never faced an actual threat. You could go left and right seducing all the men you want, but you’ve never faced a man of God.”

You don’t even hear him. You don’t want to. Even after the initial sear has subsided, the sharp pain lingered, traveling down your back in a dull ache.

“Men of God inflict pain like this? Please,” you spit. “Is this truly what your god wants, or is that just a flimsy excuse?”

“Ah ah. You don’t need to do that. This is what you’re all about, is it not? Why don’t you give in,” Father Sanji leans in to whisper in your ear, “and let a man make you tremble instead?”

You feel the cool air hit the back of your thighs as your dress skirt yanks up, revealing your naked flesh underneath.

“One that will treat you so well.” He doesn’t sound surprised to see you donning anything underneath that skirt.

Fury pulses through you. If some human spawn thinks he can get away with this, he’ll be sure to regret it.

You found your opportunity. His body was close enough to your back and bounded claws, and you wasted no time scratching him, successfully taking a bit of flesh with it. He hisses sharply and pulls back his arm before you can do more damage.

“Little thing,” he grunts, seeing the blood drip slowly seeping outside the skin and down his forearm. “I know what you just did.”

You cackle with a voice nothing like the one you first spoke to him. It’s more real, more raw, and certainly fitting for who you truly are. You barely notice the painful beads tightening around your hands, consumed by your gratification.

“Oh, it’s nothing special, just a push for you to finish what you started.”

You know even the strongest human men are no match for you after a simple scratch from your poisoned nails. A man once wary of your advances, fearful of committing adultery, always falls to his knees—completely blinded by their passion and lust for a succubus. You know Sanji is feeling the same effects behind you, so it’s surprising the aura he carries feels almost unaffected .

“It’s not a challenge when I was going to in the first place,” his thigh dips between yours, so achingly slow to press against your mound you felt compelled to rip him to shreds, yet the quiver in your plump legs don’t go unnoticed by the Father.

“Let’s see how long the stuffy priest can resist a battle of endurance. I’ll have you dead, drained of your lifeforce, before you know.”

Your neck is craned to see him from behind you, and you see the sight of the handsome blonde sour at your words. Father Sanji gives an experimental, sensual rub of your pussy with his leg muscle, almost testing the waters, yet the stimulation to your pussy is instantly slicking it.

“Your ego precedes you,” The priest grunts, rolling his shoulders back and forth to rid himself of a growing frustration. “Your kind could easily kill a man like me, but you choose the path of lust instead to satiate your hunger.”

When he dives his digits into your pussylips, you can feel how effortlessly your slick eliminates any friction. His fingers easily glide up and down your apex until he breaks past the soft, juicy barriers between your entrance. The rough, warm interior greets his fingers with gusto, pulsing around him like a vice.

“You could’ve cut my head off when you answered the door, or when you lured me into this kitchen,” The priest says, spending no time roughly pumping his fingers into you, thrusting in and out of your slicked hole. “But instead, you want a worldly experience with me? To take my life force and watch me crumble with glee?”

“I can play along with this if you’d like.” You laugh, turning your neck to see his stoic position. You sweeten your voice, fumble your hands against the restraints, as you fake moan against the marble, mocking his energy.

The sound of his moistened palm smacking against your cunt is deliciously filling the room. Maybe from a bumbling idiot, you wouldn’t feel gratified, but from prey as special as him? With deft hands like that, a few burns from that cigarette must’ve damaged your head more than you thought.

“You like it, enough, I see,” Sanji says, pointing at the emergence of your identity resting on the sides of your head.

Yes, the mark of your heritage. When the dance of lust befalls you, your true form seems to come out. To the curve of your hips plumping in size, the hardness of your nipples rubbing the marble table, but above all, the rouge, the rough indentation of horns sprouting past your skull and making their appearance.

You whistle lowly, mocking a false interest.

“Oh, is that supposed to humble me?” You say, voice dripping with disdain. “Think just some foreplay will make me cum like a virgin?”

“Do you think you’re still in control in this situation, demon?” He husks.

“It won’t take long, I would argue,” you drawl. “For you to beg for me, lamb. For my body, my touch, for the sweetness, and tightness of my insides. You’ll worship me like a devoted man you are.”

Your charming voice exhales out, and a sickly sweet scent from your body follows it. One filled with frankincense and amber tones—the scent that brings men to their knees in pleasure. It’s a tactic you pride yourself in as a succubus, one you’re certain will work on him without fail, drawing him irresistibly closer to your body.

His face scrunches up at the last part of your sentence. His gray, pinpoint eyes are focused on your body, taking in your form in its new appearance, smelling the scent. All at once he grips your sides, flipping your body around with reckless abandon. Your back hits the marble forcefully, your wrist painfully colliding before it’s pinned behind. A noise of both aggravation and intrigue releases from your body as you arch yourself. You try to push past the unsavory noise you made, but never have you experienced such force from your prey.

“I enjoy how hard you try despite your current position under me, but,” he states, but you can tell of a new lewd view before you with your body facing his. At the lower region of his priest's cloak, you see the indentation of his cock stirring against the fabric. “You will submit to me, temptress.”

That’s when you see it.

He sheds the skirting of his cloaks wrapped tightly by the long cotton belt cinched around his waist. Underneath, his erection springs out.

Priest Sanji’s length may be too long for your vessel. God dammit, you’re not in control at this point to change that, yet you lick your lips in anticipation of a challenge. The conquest of dominating his body will reap rewards beyond your wildest desires. Your ability to gain such an influx of power from his life source, you wouldn’t need a dilapidated house like this.

You can’t help but smirk, knowing full well that Sanji—his body— is just as impatient as you are. Your agitation about the situation is replaced with the feelings you know too well: the egotistical, maniacal form of lust that courses through your veins.

“That’s more like it.” You purr.

Against the power of a succubus, it seems even he can't resist the allure of your body. Be it the poison of your nails, your scent, or the worldly desires getting to him, his cock seems strained from arousal before you. He presses his erection on your wet apex, rubbing and lubricating himself.

Priest Sanji’s rough entry makes your walls immediately succumb to him. You grunt from the stretch of your hole around his cock, but it doesn’t take long for you to adjust. You were made for this, after all.

“Feel how I fill you, seductress. Take it good, let me feel you flutter well,” he says. “This is just the beginning.”

You feel the urge to give in with his cock tight inside your sleeve, the urge to have him take you like a lass would her lover. Maybe you could enjoy yourself a little. How rare that this man spoke to you in a way that excited you beyond taking him for your meal. His dominating figure and treatment are beyond a sniveling adulterer.

“I didn't know a devil spawn could become so flushed.” He whispers lowly. Like a gravelly wisp, it is quickly replaced by his nails digging into the flesh of your thigh as he hikes the leg up to his face.

Your limber legs split under his grasp with ease. The angle he’s pumping himself into creates an unknown sensation in you. The deepest parts of you fire up from being touched by him, and the insides of your vessel feel jumbled by the sheer size of his member.

“Oh darling, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” you say. You lift your thighs using the weight of your hands pinned under you, bucking up to meet the base of his dick with each thrust, enveloping him deeper, yet deeper, inside of you. “I can show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams.” The delicious feeling makes your hands wriggle together, the beads etching deeper into your wrists.

“Blessed be thy lips that speak, doll,” the priest taunts, he sweeps your lip with his thumb in a smothering affection.

In annoyance, you bare your teeth, prepared to bite his finger, but instead, he shoves several down your throat, muffling any pretenses you had against his advances. His soft, firm fingers scrape against the ridges of your throat, urging you to gag, but you refuse to give him satisfaction.

Your teeth, tail, and nails could easily poison his flash again, even slash and crush him to ribbons, but injecting more of your lustful poison won’t speed up the process of his arousal taking over if he’s already been exposed. As for killing him…

No, killing him wouldn’t be worth it. Not with this challenge laid before you. The excitement of it. Maybe he’s not as uptight as you would’ve thought, but no mortal human man is a match for your sexual drive. No one has ever been.

You suck on his fingers, latching your mouth around the digits in deficiency, your eyes never leaving his. The priest’s wickedness falters slightly, replaced by something more flustered. His hand tenses, thumb curling to rest against the underside of your jaw, a tenderness juxtaposes his hard cock aggressively thrusting in and out of you. Your hips move together in your bliss.

Any thrusting prey graced within your body has always worked under their lust, their disgusting selfish desires to speed their climax—a decision that you ultimately win from. But this? This isn't the movement of a man chasing his pleasure, but one that wants to slowly unravel you at the core of your being. One who knows your intentions, yet gambles on his cock and body to do his bidding before a demon of the night.

The priest’s hand snakes out of your mouth, and grips the fatness of your hips. He alternates his thrusts into shallow, gentle pecks into your core in reverent, pounding jackhammers on a dime. The pressure that differs between each thrust is dizzying, inconceivably unlike anything you’ve ever felt from squabbling and desperate prey in the past. His violent grip on you drives a relentless, random rhythm that has you gasping for air.

“Ahh, ahh!” Your hands grip in the air, for anything that will suppress your body from shrieking its pleasure. “Shit, fuck, ugh, hmph!” You don’t understand it when your mouth babbles in pleas and distasteful curses. Distasteful? Never would you have imagined your tongue and the curses it carries could be so repulsive. This damned priest.

“Speaking in tongues I see.” The priest says mockingly.

Maybe you should kill him.

You regain some of your dignity at his words, realizing how desperate for his cock you may seem. To settle the score, you relax your body, letting his dick pass into you until you clamp your pussy around him. Like a vice, you squeeze hard, just to follow it with a pulse of different pressures against his dick. You pursue it relentlessly, trying hard not to succumb to the beautiful bliss of nerves it stimulates while he starts to stutter at his pace.

“I never thought a priest would want to break his celibacy fucking a demon child.” You coo. “Myyy, hahhhh, how the church must be so ashamed of you.”

His face stills in his huffing, his hand coming up to his shoulder as he quickly plucks off the stole around his neck, slipping it off of him before he lifts it in front of you.

“Your unholy words describe this as a test of faith. Speaking as if you weren’t built to do anything but take this cock. This, however, is my calling to do,” as quickly as he finished his sentence, as he pounds his dick hard enough to distract you, you feel the stole wrap around, tightly constricting your mouth as he pulls the ends behind your head.

You squirm in protest, muffled by the bitter, vile-tasting cloth. You wriggle violently, irritated that he’s muffled you like an animal.

“Uh, uh, be good for me now,” his voice is light and soft, but writhing when his breath touches your face.

He presses a hand on your stomach as he leans forward to your face, making your leg bend against both chests, opening your pussy more for him. The pressure on his hand against your stomach tightens your walls, his shaft rubbing against them with divine presence. You could cough up the new intensity, yet he jackhammers into you again.

His purpose for leaning so close to your face, inches away from yours, wasn’t to study you with an irritating smolder. No, it’s always more than that.

With a sudden jerk, you pull back from his hand yanking a horn on your head, the pain is exquisite, it’s dizzying, it’s fucking annoying, yet you squirm and whimper against the stole. Your neck turns at an uncomfortable angle, but you can’t think of the disrespect when he deliciously shoves his shaft into your walls.

You’ve never felt humanity, yet when tears bull in the corner of your eyes from the pain in your horns, you feel disgusted by the smirk you get from Priest Sanji.

“Come on, you can take it, little devil.” Closing the gap, he licks the tear that threatened to fall from the corner of your eye. You feel disgusted as he swallows your tears down in a sick satisfaction no priest would have. No priest should have, nothing that you could imagine, yet you hum in pleasure. Sickening is what you are.

You feel ravenous, you crave your reward too much to stop it, but your body screams to tip him over. In your wake of revenge, you gain enough feeling in your tail to move it underneath you.

Your tail catches him off guard, curling around the small of his waist to push him impossibly closer inside of you. You push and pull him faster, battling him at your own pace.

“Dirty,” is all he says, gripping onto your thighs to position them perfectly, giving you the instant gratitude of his cock head brushing into your cervix, reliving an itch that has never been scratched so well.

Oh, but he has more in store for you.

He leans over your body, cocking his arms to your shoulder, gripping them harshly, and arching your hips more, until he’s not just brushing into the deepest spots inside you, he’s pounding them. But your body is made for this. he grunts, feeling the effects of his actions like clockwork as you tighten harden around his pulsing cock.

That’s when you hear that irritating voice again. Not berating you, not egging you on. No…

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

That sick bastard is speaking a prayer over your dick-ridden body.

You feel hands on your back. In a bruising clutch, your body twists around and your stomach hits the counter hard enough to leave you breathless. Your arms restrained behind you now gain blood flow. Though you’re unable to see your prey now, you can still hear the retched words spill out of his mouth.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” says the grunting priest. While he’s slapping in and out of you, he feels the need to pray to his stupid god. What a joke.

Father Sanji’s chest is against your back. His hand travels up to your blouse, a rip ringing out and buttons flying in the air as the top of your dress rips apart. Your back arches at the feeling, giving him the perfect opportunity.

“On earth as it is in heaven.”

You moan at the dominance, chest now exposed in the air. the frayed blouse of the dress now limps at your sides.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

A hand from behind reaches toward you and grips your breast with such force, gripping the mound like a knob. An intention to tear the succubus down to her bare necessities. For the first time, he gropes and explores your flesh against his digits; but it’s not for his pleasure. It’s for yours, to build you up higher as you take him in your tight sheath.

“For thine is the kingdom…”

Father Sanji’s voice falters in between his touches of your flesh, yet he doesn’t let go. He instead grips onto the flesh as he ruts his hips once again. You moan as he fondles your hardened nipples, gripping the mound with a brutish strength. Your legs splayed out.

“…and the power...”

You feel euphoric from the sensation, the slant of his hips rolling into you further than ever before. Your feet dangling in the air in ecstasy before latching onto him. You wrap your thighs around his middle along with your tail, hooking your feet together as you increase the pressure of your pussy, now pulling him so close he can barely pump out. His face contorts.

“…and the glory forever…”

You feel overpowered by his lust, edging to the brink of climax at an alarming rate, the pleasure is immeasurable, but you know it’s dangerous.

One more scratch, one more, as you use enough of your strength to finally release yourself from your restraints, your nails so close to the flesh you can feel it.

Until you feel a sudden pressure in your horns.

Both his hands fly to your horns as you’re yanked back, your back tensed as all the slack is pulled to arch it at the most inhumane position that you find hard to breathe, to moan. The pain at the base of your horns aches through your head, and the priest cocks it back to your right to face him, your neck straining from the angle that you squeak, your mouth agape and suckling on the stole.

Sanji is looking at you now, his wrinkles scrunching his face in pure agony and pleasure. The sweat was drenched on his face, a soft smile on his lips again, but with a dark glint he never had in the beginning.

In a swift motion, he rips the stole out of your mouth, and you’re ready to scream. You’re ready to devour him, to bite and suck his flesh, but he shuts up any thought you have by closing the distance first.

An open mouth kiss is taken from your lips. The priest seethes his tongue into you, as you feel a cool liquid pass from his lips into yours. Before you can sink your teeth into that wet tongue, you open your eyes and pull away as fast as you can.

“S-shit!” the water burns the insides of your mouth and travels down your throat, clawing its way into you like a furious wave of flames.

You’ve never known this horrible feeling, but you can tell what Sanji made you swallow. Holy water. The mix of the water and Palo Santo smoke lingering in his mouth travels into you.

“Amen.” Sanji grunts.

He cranks both of your legs further than before, past any stretch you reached before slamming his cock into your hole.

It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore.

You feel your body crash into an intense, mind-numbing orgasm as you scream and claw at your throat. A shrill, high-pitched yell scratches out of you from the pain and pleasure, the leftover water that didn't travel down your throat sputters out in spats. Your cunt restricts around his member, as your body releases its cum, showering and squirting onto his cock, out of your hole, and dripping like a faucet onto the floor. One more pound into your weeping cunt, and Sanji pulls out of you both he grunts, fisting himself until semen spurts out of his dick.

He’s pulled out and came right after you did. Not in your pussy, for his semen inside would’ve nourished you from this astounding pain.

You lost. You fucking lost!

And there he stands, a blurry form in front of you, chest heaving, looming over you, but with that solemn, soft face. The same face he made when you opened that forsaken entrance to the home, those same silvery-blue eyes that fill you with rage.

“And, hack! and I thought I could have some real fun with you, you fucking pig!” you cough out. your mouth is welled up with blood as you feel indescribable torture in your body, a mix of cum and blood drips down the kitchen floor. You wipe your mouth, and in the cloudy film of your eyes, you see your hand covered in bright red, staining your palm.

“But no… you wanted to play— ack ,— the hero. I will, I will kill you… you know. Hah , ahhh… I-I’m going to fucking kill–!”

“Language.”

Your body is doused in scalding liquid. The coffee pot in the Father's hand is now empty. You hear the sizzle of it on your skin. You wail out, clutching your face, your neck, your stomach. the inside and out of you feel exposed to the inside of the sun, blazing through every atom as if it were tearing in half.

“You couldn’t resist me, in the end. Your ego kept you from killing me from the chute.” Priest Sanji says. “Ironic, to say the least, fallen one.”

You can barely fucking hear him. Your body writhes on the floor. Pain, it’s all you can feel in everything.

Through the pain, you can hear Sanji’s words echoing in your mind. Your ego… it was that that kept you from killing him. You were so blindfolded by arrogance and conceit you couldn’t see the truth of the situation until it was too late.

“Now, you must leave at once demon.”

You howl like a banshee, getting up to attack him, but you can’t see. The sound of glass and plates breaks as your body slumps across the counters, searching for him through the blur.

No. You know now, despite his soft words, his truthful compliments, and the way he delighted your body, he’s the real demon. One so taunting, so deceiving, it fills your weak body with nothing but rage. But you can’t fight him now, you can barely stand.

“F-fucking… bastard!”

With nothing else left for you to do, with his mere presence making your life force dangerously zap out of your vessel, you claw away on your four limbs, crashing against walls until you reach the exit of the home.

You stumble out into the night, desperately gasping for breath and clutching at your chest’s faint heartbeat. Your body flees past the lot, past the yard’s grasses. The fear of him reaching you carries until the forest is only illuminated by the moon above.

You’re far weaker than you’ve been in ages, clearly on the brink of death unless your strength is built up again. By the looks of it, it won’t be another hundred, no, even a thousand flimsy men you victimize before you can cast revenge on the priest.

With a flick of your tail and limp in your dash, you’re quick to find your next meal to satiate a burning desire.

A desire to make that flakey priest drop dead the next time you lay eyes on him.

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