#toc: six | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamsofbroflovski · 5 months ago

Note

CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG W FEM BODIED READER I BEG PLEASE GO WILD

I do believe I did, in fact, go wild.

Seemingly contrary to popular demand, the (first) Craig fic is here! Have one more already in drafts.

I'm still writing slow apparently

Pastor!Craig Tucker x Succubus!Reader - match made in hell

Also available on ao3!

Summary: What was supposed to be a normal night of feeding for one powerful succubus turns into much more when she runs into Craig Tucker, a simple pastor from a small town - allegedly.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Smut, Oral Sex, Deepthroating/Facefucking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cowgirl Position, Slapping, Mentions of Alcohol, Religious Imagery and Symbolism (Portrayed NEGATIVELY - Reader is a sex demon)

A/N: Warning: If you have a particularly close and positive relationship with religion and/or get offended easily, I suggest you avoid this work. The Reader character is a sex demon, and as such, some descriptions of religion and comments on it are less than respectful. If you wanna read Craig but aren't keen on this one, I have something else prepared for him in a more light-hearted and cutesy tone coming soon (possibly next month because I do also have a request for Kyle, and Craig needs a break)

My first one of 2025. Here's to many more! I hope the person who created the concepts for Pastor Craig and Imp Tweek in the Phone Destroyer headquarters got paid HANDSOMELY. These two characters are endless mines of content for the fandom, and all the fanart people have created with them is fucking FIRE

Toc toc toc, my shoes clacked as I walked down the street in an unknown town, the repetitive sound only being broken when stepping over the still fresh tiny clumps of snow all over the ground. The cold didn’t graze my body, which was always warm and comfortable no matter the weather or outfit, and the area was empty enough at night, so I also didn’t have to deal with the usual looks of confusion people had on their faces when they saw me walking down the street in nothing but six inch heels and a strapless tube minidress.

I walked without really knowing or caring about my destination or surroundings - the workings of human geography are irrelevant to an entity of superior ranking such as myself. Being a succubus means being able to find sustenance absolutely anywhere, with my powers being able to do the whole work of charming a target that I could then fuck, their semen containing precious life energy that I fed on. Not that I needed that energy right now; it hadn’t been long since I last manifested into the Earth looking for food, which meant I was… still full, so to speak.

My presence in the human realm at all was considered abnormal. Most of my sex demon peers were mostly used to visiting humans in the form of wet dreams and taking their energy off of that. They didn’t also feed often, only doing so when they really needed to, to save themselves the trip and the hassle. As such, most of them turned their noses when seeing me making moves on the land of the living rather frequently, enjoying the thrill of the chase and taking my victims in person - usually with them ending up dead as a result; most human men couldn’t survive an actual physical encounter with a succubus, hence my colleagues’ preference for dreamwalking.

Which is probably why all of those other demons were fucking weaklings and I was the most powerful by a huge margin, but that’s a story for another time.

Soon I found myself at the entrance of an unknown tavern. It had all the airs of a place that’s trying too hard, like it was trying to cater to an audience that wasn’t its usual and was probably failing miserably on that. I already knew I had to brace myself for what I would find inside. The men that usually frequented these places usually reflected the ambience - acting all high and mighty, pretending to know more than they actually did, and like you should be grateful they’re even bothering to lend you a moment of their oh-so-important night. And I’d have to humor these types of cretins, laugh at their jokes and pretend to be smitten by their flirting, give them the satisfaction of sleeping with them. Those men were no different than the types you’d find at the run-down bars in the shittiest parts of the human world, their minds worked in the exact same way and I always found more delight in seeing their dead bodies under me than I had when actively having sex.

The thought of that delight was what gave me the patience to push through the heavy doors into the pretentious pub. Jazz music played softly on unseen speakers, but with almost no ears to appreciate it; the place was mostly empty. Just one guy sitting alone at a table in the corner looking over the window, a couple on a table closer to the entrance - the annoyed look on their faces told me I wouldn’t have the slightest hint of a problem making a move on the husband if I wanted him, and he probably wouldn’t be missed after death either - and a loner on the stools by the counter.

Immediately after I entered, the most delicious scent invaded my nostrils, overpowering all my other senses and clouding my awareness of the environment like a purple-ish haze. My kind is able to feel the sexual energy flowing through human beings, much like a predator can smell its prey. It is usually different from person to person, sometimes mouth-watering, sometimes repulsive, but it always has the same effect of drawing us in and making us aware of possible targets. Some humans have more energy than others, more impacting and flavorful scents - those are what their kind would usually see as sexually superior, the ones with lots of stamina and a sensual aura that cannot be ignored, an information that is not necessarily attached to their physical appearance. Never quite to the level of us succubi, but those individuals usually did make for tasty meals.

Whoever was exuding this smell, however, was on another echelon entirely. I didn’t think I had ever felt that much sexual aura emanating from one single person, and I had come across many powerful examples. Being with someone like this would no doubt be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, both in the matter of power intake from the feeding and sexual gratification of the act itself. It was like a complete banquet had been placed right under my face, and all it would take for me to feast was seducing one insignificant human male, a task I knew I had in the bag.

My head turned in the direction the smell was coming from, an almost automatic movement, instincts taking over to more easily get to my prey. Immediately my brain identified the target, the guy at the counter, nursing a glass of something all by himself. It was a young man, possibly in what would be the early to mid twenties in a human lifespan. The most ridiculous blue chullo hat covered his hair, and honestly it had me confused for a second on how a guy wearing something like that could have such a powerful aura. The rest of his outfit was mostly normal - run-of-the-mill dark blue jeans, a black blazer fully open at the front, well-shined dress shoes on his feet. Overall very unassuming. Had it not been for the full black collar shirt with the white detail on the front of the neck, I might’ve not even realized that the man was a pastor.

Not that it was a problem. I had been with religious leaders many times, and this one definitely wouldn’t be the last. For all their hatred for demons and their efforts to steer the ‘sheep’, as they called it, away from temptation, they were always particularly easy to seduce - a whole life built on self-imposed abstinence often made for extremely frustrated men who could never put up a fight against my sensual charms, their pent-up sexual energy bursting to the forefront at the first opportunity. Admittedly, it was actually kind of fun; seeing the desperation behind their eyes as they struggled to keep their cool and remind themselves of their vows to whatever deity they worshiped, the hypocrisy they exhibited when finally running their disgusting hands all over my skin, and their completely drained bodies when it was all over. Every single one of them had died under me.

Licking my lips over the perspective of an easy full meal, I made my way to the counter across the door, taking the free seat to the right of the pastor, balancing myself on the flimsy bar stool and checking him out through the corner of my eye. From most men, I got feedback right upon arrival, and it could come either in the form of a quick glance or a full-blown stare, depending on how smitten and desperate the guy was. The one on my left, however, barely flinched, not even the usual reaction associated with having someone sit right beside you when everywhere else is empty. He just took another sip off his glass, his eyes fixed on the shelves of beverages in front of us, physically seeing them but clearly not committing anything to memory.

Weird behaviour, but fine by me. Even if he might act a little odd, the only thing I wanted from this man was his energy, and that he clearly had to spare. So it was worth taking the lead and forcing him to pay attention to me. I leaned towards him, expecting that to create some sort of movement from him, but he did absolutely nothing. So I touched his shoulder lightly, forcing his brain to acknowledge my presence, even if his body wouldn’t show it.

Putting on my most demure and soft voice, I spoke to him in a low volume. “Excuse me, sir, can you call the bartender for me? I don’t think he’s seen me here yet.” Total bullshit. The place was almost empty and everyone who was present saw me enter, the only reason I hadn’t been served so far was because I literally didn’t give anyone any time to.

The pastor simply lifted his hand in silence, still not looking at me, and the aforementioned bartender came rather quickly, introducing himself and the place, clearly already entranced by my presence and affected by my love charm. Unfortunately - or fortunately? - for him, he wasn’t my target. I ordered a B-52; just a simple shot, so I could maybe strike a conversation over it with the guy sitting beside me, or at least buy myself some time to come up with another excuse.

“Hey, you’re a pastor, right?” I pointed to the collar of his shirt, feigning ignorance, “Why are you at a bar?”

The guy took another sip of his drink - now that I was up close, I could see it was a glass of plain whiskey. When he opened his mouth to speak, I felt his energy all over again - his voice was deep and devoid of all emotion, but extremely hot to the ears. “If you had to constantly deal with the people of this town, you’d drink too.”

I forced my mind to stop thinking about how sexy he sounded and focus on his actual words. Jaded, like everything else about his demeanor. “Sure, but I didn’t know y’all could drink,” I retorted, chuckling a bit to emphasize the unseriousness of my comment, “Isn’t that forbidden or something?”

“Jesus turned water to wine,” the pastor shrugged.

The finger that had drawn attention to his collar now pointed to his glass. “Wine, not whisky.”

“It’s all alcohol anyway.”

And that’s what truly mattered to him, apparently.

My shot glass arrived and I downed it quickly, suppressing a smirk as I heard the guy speak again, of his own accord this time. “I have never seen you before,” his comment felt slightly funny, considering he hadn’t looked at me at all yet, “And I’m the pastor. I know everyone.”

“Oh, I’m just… visiting,” my usual hand-crafted excuse for why I was somewhere slipped without even having to think about it, “Not really from around the area.”

“I can see that,” he said from behind his glass, his voice echoing slightly inside of it and making the liquid vibrate.

“You haven’t even seen me yet…” I let that sentence draw out flirtingly, my hand moving to the pastor’s chin and tilting his face to the side so it would be towards me - knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it even though I hadn’t asked permission. Guys like him cared heavily about their personal space, while I didn’t, so my demonic powers always won out.

I expected him to try and turn away right off the bat, get full blown red in the face in a way that I’d be able to practically see the lascivious thoughts running inside of his head and hear his inner voice trying to reel them back. Instead, he just eyed me up and down, his expression unreadable. Wasn’t even subtle about the fact he was doing it, either. When he was done analyzing me, he turned towards the bar again.

“So…” I murmured again, not letting him have his silence, “What do you think?”

“That’s a stupid question to ask the local pastor,” his answer came as dry as ever.

“Well… Can I at least get a name for the local pastor then?” finally finding a chance to ask, I gave him my best soft smile, making my question seem innocent enough, “Just in case I wanna attend mass while I’m here?”

“You’d get one if you actually went to the thing,” he retorted, ”But I guess it’s fair. I’m Craig Tucker. You?”

I gave him a fake one, like always, one off the little list of feminine-sounding names I had memorized for those exact occasions. Craig repeated it after me in a murmur, seemingly testing how it rolled off his tongue, but it didn’t matter to me. The way he’d moan it when deep inside was the only one that counted.

“Craig Tucker.” My way of saying his name was less about memorizing it and more about making a declaration to myself; setting my prey’s name to my brain, like throwing a dart at a picture of him on the wall. “I still want your answer…”

He drank the final bit of the whiskey he had and set the glass aside. “Like you need salvation, lady.”

The fit of laughter that came from me was completely genuine. Surely it wasn’t intended as a compliment - or maybe it was; hard to tell with Craig - but I took it as one anyway, committing it to memory for later bragging to my fellow succubi. “Is that so?” I said once the hilarity of it all started to die down, “Hm… You know all about salvation, don’t you? Maybe you can help a girl out… I wanna go to heaven, after all.”

Words that quite literally hurt my tongue to say, like thousands of hot needles pricking on it, but I managed to push through the discomfort - you don’t become one of the best by following every single rule Hell forces upon you. The pastor waited a moment, then lifted his hand in the air, calling for the bartender, who came rather quickly. They exchanged some words I didn’t care to hear; all that mattered was Craig signaling in my direction, both of them looking at me for a moment, then the other man nodding quickly and stepping right away to prepare a drink.

That’s when I knew it was all working. This is how it always started. Men would get entranced by my charm and try to woo me with drinks and erotic words, which was just entertainment in itself from how hilarious they were most of the time. It was always worth it coming up to this realm for that alone. Then they’d start making passes on me, trying to get a move on, and when I accepted eagerly, they’d leave with me thinking that they were getting the upper hand on the whole thing by taking a hot babe home with barely any effort. Even if some of them started out slightly put off by a woman showing so much initiative, the end result was inevitable; a husk of a man left completely drained in his bed, if he managed to make it out alive, and me off on the road to my next endeavor.

It didn’t take long for me to hear the glass sliding across the bar counter, but when I caught it with my hand, what I saw gave me pause. I was used to the fancy tall glasses with colorful drinks, all fruit and sugar and barely any alcohol at all, that men would buy me in clubs when trying to impress. Instead, what stopped in front of me was a small glass of Old Fashioned, an orange slice resting lazily inside of the amber liquid, alongside a single dark red cherry that had sunk to the bottom with its stem still poking out of the cup. I had had a couple of these before, but had to charm bartenders into giving them to me every single time - they were much more up my alley than the borderline diabetes-inducing drinks I was normally forced to enjoy, but men wouldn’t ever let me have those because they didn’t think a pretty woman like me could handle the real deal.

I blinked twice, looking at my drink, before lifting my eyes to Craig again. A new, full glass of whiskey had appeared in his hand, probably while I was too busy in my slight shock. “Don’t you think that’s… a bit too much for a woman?” I chuckled, lifting up the glass and shaking it lightly, letting the ice clink around. Though my comment was playing into the usual human gender norms, the real objective was to gauge his intentions and thoughts; the pastor had already proven to be more than meets the eye, and I was just dying to find out more about what happened inside that ridiculous hat he wore.

“It’s nothing. I think you can handle it,” he responded with a snort - probably the most emotion he had shown yet, even if it was a bit of disdain, “If you’re too weak, then give it here.”

Immediately I took the drink out of his reach and brought it to my mouth. The liquid burned as it went down my throat, leaving behind a lingering stinging sensation, obviously too strong for my human disguise but absolutely delicious for me. This time, Craig spun his whole body on the bar stool to face me, watching my reaction with great interest - evidently expecting me to gag or cough or maybe even start crying. I didn’t give him the satisfaction, taking great joy in the strong flavor of a proper beverage for a change.

The whole glass was gone in a couple of gulps, and I let it rest on the counter. The small orange slice was left alone in the glass when I picked the alcohol-soaked cherry and placed it between my teeth, my eyes shining with mischief as I teasingly closed my lips around the fruit and broke the stem away, chewing slowly without ever losing the pastor’s gaze.

“Well would you look at that.” There was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, which I was.

After swallowing the chewed cherry - much less sweet from its time submerged in the drink -, I let my lips curve into a smirk. “You’re right. I can handle it.”

“Clearly.” The pastor raised his own glass towards me, as if going for a toast, despite the fact that I didn’t have anything to toast with anymore. He didn’t wait for any reaction of mine, just bringing the drink to his lips right after the silent movement. A nonverbal acknowledgement of my skill, not necessarily praise since his face was still cold as ever, but close.

I lifted my glass a few inches from the table as well, reciprocating the imaginary toast. “Cheers to the fact that I can handle my alcohol?”

Just like me, he was done with his glass of whiskey after a few gulps, drinking rapidly without a break. The noise the glass made when he placed it on the bar was maybe a bit too loud, even though Craig’s movements were as calculated as they had been the whole time. “You can handle more than that,” he responded, “Or at least it’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

I put my hand over my mouth, hiding a giggle. “Excuse me?”

The pastor leaned towards me, lacing his fingers and propping his elbows on his thighs. “You come to a bar with barely anyone in it, wearing next to nothing, sit right next to a dude you’ve never seen and start a conversation with him. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Yeah, of course. He was spot on. Not that I was trying to be secretive about my intentions, but usually the religious fellows don’t speak on them with their full chest like this guy did. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I murmured, looking elsewhere and twirling a strand of hair on my index finger in the most obvious flirty move ever, a behavior that annoyed even myself with how stupid it was.

“Don’t play with me, lady,” his tone was firmer this time and I knew I didn’t have much more time with my coy act before he’d lose his patience, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t prolong it as much as I could. “I’m a pastor, not a fucking dumbass.”

The sudden cursing should’ve felt absurd, but somehow I knew Craig was not above it. “Language!” I nudged his leg with my foot playfully.

“You can fuck right off.” Swiftly, he stood up, his bar stool making a noise on the floor with the quick movement. ”Now, let’s go.”

It wasn’t a suggestion or a question. It was an order.

“Where?” I tilted my face a bit.

The eye roll he gave me could’ve made a person dizzy. “My place.”

“Oh, but…” I pouted slightly while looking up at him, “I thought guys from the church had to wait until marriage?”

“We do. And we also don’t drink or curse.” He pulled a wallet from the pocket of his blazer and slammed a bill on the counter, visibly not intent on waiting for change. His point needed no further explanation. “Now you can leave with me or you can leave alone, it’s your call.”

Craig’s poker face made it really hard to decipher which parts of his attraction to me were doings of my passive demonic charm and how much of it was actually just him being interested without me having to do anything. His actions seemed completely original, he wasn’t much trying to impress me or jumping at the slightest hint of my affections like guys usually did when I used my abilities on them. Maybe he just… Wanted me of his own accord.

Fine by me. Giving up on any further teasing, at least for the time being, I got up as well and followed him out into the cold night like a guided missile - not without looking back one last time and noticing the disgruntled expression on the bartender’s face as he saw me leaving with the pastor.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

My high heels had barely touched the carpet in Craig’s apartment before the door slammed and his hands were on me. The whole drive there we hadn’t spoken a word to each other, his eagerness only still noticeable by the firm grip on the steering wheel and the several red lights he ran through. He had managed to restrain all his desire for a moment where we’d be fully comfortable and alone to act on it.

The pastor didn’t try to butter me up by showing me around his house or using flattering words on me some more like anyone else would - no, he went straight for the kill. Clearly Craig gave no fucks for anything that didn’t explicitly pique his interest, and right now his interest was in my body, so that’s what he was going to focus on and all the other social norms were out the window. He knew I wanted him too, so in his vision, there was no point in waiting. This straightforward attitude of his drove him further and further into my trap and he didn’t even know it.

He spun me around after closing the door and took my lips on his, wasting no time before sliding his tongue past my teeth and letting it find mine in a passionate dance. That blue hat had somehow vanished in the couple of seconds I wasn’t looking at him, Craig’s full head of short black hair slightly mussed from being under its confines too long, a problem that I solved quickly by running my fingers all over it as I grabbed his head to pull it impossibly closer.

Although the fire with which he kissed me was welcome, it also seemed unbecoming. The celibates I charmed in the past usually had an awkwardness attached to the way that they touched me, because they literally didn’t know how - their teeth would clash onto mine when they tried to come for a kiss, and they’d try to grope and massage the weirdest parts of my body, clamoring to feel any part of a woman’s soft skin. Craig had none of that. His hands immediately went for my ass, hiking up my form-fitting dress and letting the fabric bunch on my hips, taking the soft yet firm flesh on his palms as he squeezed it possessively.

He tried forcing me to walk backwards in the direction he wanted to go, his legs taking him automatically despite his closed eyes, since he already knew the way around all the obstacles. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t have that same awareness. When the back of my leg hit what seemed to be an armchair and we lost our walking pace, Craig grunted in major annoyance before breaking our kiss and narrowing his eyes at me like I had just committed the eighth deadly sin. Immediately, he used all the strength in his arms to pull me up, my legs wrapping tight around his waist and my arms around his neck instinctively as I lost my footing. Apparently, he figured it was better that he take me himself, since I was being ‘inefficient’ to him. I didn’t mind that at all.

“Wow, you’re strong,” my whispering made his arms tighten around me even more, “You gotta tell me your workout routine later…”

“Someone like you wouldn’t keep up with it,” the way he said it wasn’t exactly sexy; more matter-of-fact, as if it was actually part of a conversation - one he wouldn’t continue, having clashed his lips on mine right after to stop me from questioning.

It didn’t take many steps for him to kick a door open in some direction I didn’t care for and bring me into his bedroom, throwing me onto the mattress without much care, my body bouncing on impact. His bed was queen size - kind of unnecessary for a guy who couldn’t actually lay beside somebody else before marriage, but very convenient for my purposes - and extremely comfortable, with cushy pillows and a decent comforter that smelled like him. A huge focus on personal satisfaction that probably cost a lot and thus went against the humility he was supposed to preach.

Faking a contented hum, I made quick work of my tiny dress, the only thing covering my otherwise very naked form, and stretched myself lazily, turning around like a pleased cat and touching the comforter all over with my body; not quite masking his scent with my own, but rather creating an enticing cocktail better than anything he could buy at the flimsy bar I met him at. It’d undoubtedly stick for many days even after I left, to keep Craig - or whoever discovered his dead body - completely aware of what had transpired in this mattress.

Stopping after a few moments, I laid on my side, facing a very stiff Craig who gazed down at me with his arms crossed. My eyes managed to catch on to the slightest twitch of his nose, which had me grinning straight away - I was getting to him, even if it was almost impossible to tell. My sexy little show did not go unnoticed.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” I bit on one of my fingernails , pointing at him with the other hand. “Or are you gonna strip for me?”

I made sure to not use any of my seduction magic at that moment, wanting to play with his response, expecting him to fight me for it. Instead, he just let out an annoyed grunt, his hands moving to his belt - unlike what I’m usually accustomed to, the pants came off before anything else; he pulled him down along with his boxers in a very quick motion, kicking them off of his feet with his shoes and leaving them on the ground somewhere unseen.

My attention was immediately drawn to his rock hard cock. There were no roundabouts for it: he was damn massive. Likely one of the biggest I’d seen on a mortal in centuries, in both length and girth. Had a patch of black hair at the base, extremely nicely trimmed, as if it had been done just that same day - first time I actually saw a religious guy care about his pubic hair. The veins that ran under the sensitive skin of his cock were visible even under just the dim moonlight that came from his blinds, and so were the beads of precum already leaking from the huge tip, glistening like they were made of thousands of tiny diamonds. His balls hung low, seeming heavy and full, ready to keep me fed and strengthen my demonic power for possibly weeks on end. Maybe it was a blessing to human women that his calling had been voluntary celibacy, otherwise his sexual partners would be in severe danger.

“Yeah, it’s fucking big,” Craig groaned, my unabashed inspection clearly not getting past him. Understatement of the century, but was this guy reading my mind? “And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

The words were meant to threaten me, but they had the opposite effect. My body was built for exactly that. “Well, if god made it, it must fit, right?” I decided to taunt him back, reminding him of his position despite the filth that came out of his mouth.

He scoffed. “God didn’t make it.”

I was left to try and understand just what the fuck he was talking about while he continued to undress, taking off his blazer and undoing his collar and the buttons of his shirt with practiced ease, letting both pieces of fabric fall to the floor next to his pants and allowing me to see what his build looked like. The source of his earlier strength was then clear to me. For a pastor, he was pretty toned - the shirt and blazer did a fantastic job of hiding his defined arms and abs, maintaining that completely boring façade he had while the real gem was hidden from view. In each movement, Craig Tucker laid in front of me more of his secrets and surprises, sating my mental curiosity before he even had a chance to do the same to my physical vessel.

With his upper body now bare, I took in another detail that had been hidden under his shirt. A silver cross rested on his chest, dangling from a simple chain, barely any details on it - ingenuous, just like the rest of him.

I let my nails scratch his whole torso lightly, moving up from his abdomen all the way to the chain, twisting it in my index finger while I looked at Craig with a sultry grin. Contrary to popular human belief, the little pendant had no effect on me - their religious symbols were nothing more than decorative pieces of wood or metal to us, powerless against the forces of Hell. “What about this?”

“It stays on,” he immediately said, grabbing my wrist and yanking it away from his necklace. This pastor was fully naked for me, yet some part of him still clung to his deity. It was hilarious.

“Suit yourself.” I giggled.

Craig nodded, as if to silently tell me ‘I will’, before grabbing my arm and dragging me on the bed until I was laid across it on my stomach. I propped myself up on my elbows, but before I could even try and look at him, the pastor did all the work for me by grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling it back so I was forced to do just that while he positioned himself in front of my face.

Despite me already knowing where this was headed, I still tilted my head a bit to the side in a silent inquiry of his actions, which he was quick to answer. “I need to figure out if this mouth is good for anything,” he took his cock in his free hand and gave a few lazy taps with it on my bottom lip, “Besides drinking booze and flirting with men of the church.”

“Oh, so you do admit it’s good for all that?” I whispered before closing my lips around his tip, watching the annoyed eye roll he was preparing disappear as his eyelids fluttered closed and his mouth hung open just the tiniest bit when I started sliding my tongue along the slit before swirling it all over, the wetness of his pre being replaced with that of my saliva.

I hummed smugly while starting to slowly take more of that cock inside my mouth, letting the vibrations course through him. I lived for this. Even the most unresponsive of motherfuckers couldn’t control himself with me, and I was counting on just a few more seconds before Craig Tucker became complete putty in my hands. The idea of ending this with only a blowjob, not even getting to fuck him and know what it was like to have such a huge guy inside of me, was a little bit upsetting, but this was a decision he made. Oh well, I thought, until…

With a sharp snap of his hips, he buried all of that inside of my throat.

The coughing and sputtering I emitted when that happened weren’t physical responses. Succubi don’t exactly have useful gag reflexes or the need to breathe, because we’re not mortal; even if our disguises look the part, every single bit of them exists only to elicit arousal or assist in feeding or reproduction, with all the other stupid human necessities made irrelevant. So all of that reaction was purely shock - complete astonishment at the fact that he was able to do something like that with so little care and effort, and no warning whatsoever. Something that could’ve possibly killed a normal human woman, which was, at least to him, what he was dealing with.

He was already waiting to meet my gaze when I looked up to him with wide eyes, moving his free hand to give the side of my face a few light slaps. ”I told you you were gonna take it,” the pastor said, the tiniest of smirks curving his lips for a brief second before he shifted into his stone-faced self again and started slowly pulling himself out of my mouth, “Now hopefully this shuts your damn trap.”

The pace he set while fucking my face wasn’t as brutal as his initial thrust, but I had a vague idea that it wasn’t exactly for my own comfort - he was just trying to draw out the sensation for the longest time possible. My hands grabbed his hips, trying to bring back some semblance of control over the circumstances, which only had him tugging harder at my hair and made me choke in another surprised response. Tears started prickling at the sides of my eyes and streaming down my cheeks, yet I still noticed how Craig’s own gaze laser focused on that; he was finding my whole struggle hot.

So I really played up the act. My grip became more intense and my nails dug down slightly on his skin, as if I was struggling and trying to make him get away, and I shut my eyes tight while gasping and choking all around his cock, my tongue swirling around it and getting it even more smeared in my building saliva. I didn’t need the gift of vision to take in his reaction - his low grunts reached my ears like they had been broadcasted to the whole world.

Then his hand came in contact with my face again, this time in a very fierce smack that made me yelp and cough immediately. “Shut up,” the pastor hissed, “I didn’t ask for your whining…”

Even so, considering how he sped up his thrusts considerably after this, it was clear said whining was very much welcome. So I kept on doing it, taking in stride every single following slap and thrust of his inside of my mouth, faking pain and discomfort but never completely surrendering.

He was getting close, I could sense it as he went to the initial brutish behaviour of shoving himself all the way quickly like it was just another hole instead of someone’s throat. I used my hands to try and pull him towards me this time, trying to catch any sliver of confusion on his part with this, but getting nothing. Craig just continued using my mouth for his own pleasure, and I braced myself for the surge of power I was about to receive once he came, having literally sucked the life out of him.

Until he gave my hair a yank and pulled himself back abruptly, swiftly taking himself on his free hand and letting a sequence of warm white jets land straight onto my face.

I almost screamed with anger. It was almost impossible for a human man to have enough self-control to pull out of a succubus, no matter which hole he was using. It felt like a personal defeat, to let prey use me like that and not even get to feed. But not everything was over - the pastor was still standing, his eyes closed and head thrown back, but very much alive. He had survived the ordeal, and, for the way he still had my hair on a grip, there was energy for yet another round, one I would not dare to lose.

“Craaaaaig…” I tapped my fingers on his body after a bit, trying to get him to look down at me, to see my face plastered with both his release and the mess of spit all around my mouth from his reckless fucking.

In a small victory of mine, he did. Letting go of his cock and taking my chin in his hand, the pastor tilted my face slowly to one side and then to the other, his eyes narrow as he analyzed his own work. While he did that, my eyes drifted down to his dick - confirming with delight that he was still rock hard as ever, even after coming so hard on my face. That man was one of a kind indeed.

Giving out a type of snort that I couldn’t differentiate between amused and disdainful, Craig released me fully. He silently made his way to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it, sighing as he laid on the mattress, getting cozy against his soft pillows.

No way I’d allow him relaxation now. I was not leaving that place without what I came to get in there. This guy would not be my first defeat. “Tired already?” I whined, turning around and propping myself up on one elbow as the other hand sneaked towards his chest. “I wanna play more…”

Craig turned his face to me with a stern look. “Do I seem tired to you?” Always. “And shut up.” He then patted his thigh with his hand, keeping his gaze on me. Guess my moment of just opening wide and looking pretty was done.

Slowly, teasingly, I straddled his body, his eyes following my every movement like a critic’s. I rolled my hips a few times over his cock, letting my arousal coat it - although it would take much more of it to cover his full length. Though his eyebrows curved into a frown, clearly displeased by the fact that I was waiting so long to just put him in, he couldn’t help but watch the full display with focused eyes, taking every single movement in with an interest that he didn’t show but I knew was there.

“Just get on with it already,” the complaint finally came after a few moments, his hands moving up my thighs.

“In a rush? We have the whole night,” I purred, taking one of my hands to his face and dragging my index finger along his cheek, settling it on his lower lip.

Craig tilted his face up a bit to move my touch away from his mouth before speaking again. “The earlier we start, the more we do. So stop wasting time.” Hands finding my hips, he took a firm hold on them and lifted them up himself, staring at his own slick-covered cock for a few seconds before looking up at me again, “Unless it’s too much for you.”

Fuck you, I thought to myself, before realizing I was about to do just that. It was clear he knew the effect he had, how sexy he really was, even if he didn’t conceive the true nature of that power. To say something like that to a sex demon! The disrespect! Made me even want to show my real form to him for a brief moment, so that measly pastor could really know what he was dealing with before I drained the life out of him. But I held it back, deciding to make him swallow his words through actions.

Which is why right after getting into position, I sank onto him entirely in one quick movement, meeting the base of his huge length with a brutal downward thrust. My walls stretched themselves to accommodate him in a snug fit, swiftly and painlessly, the perks of a body that is literally made for that. He groaned deeply with this, pressing his lips together to not let the sound be any louder, but the damage had been done.

I leaned towards him a bit to whisper in his ear, “It’s just enough.”

He had unknowingly put me in every succubus’ favourite position. Being on top meant I got complete control over the situation, free rein to do as I pleased while Craig would be left to squirm and take what I gave him. As I straightened my posture and started to ride him expertly, he also began lifting his hips up to meet mine, trying to establish some sort of dominance over my movements, his hands roaming everywhere on my body like they were trying to leave an invisible trail of his touch.

Knowing I had him under relative control, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the moment. And oh how easy it was to do so. He was so big I could feel him everywhere, hitting the deepest parts of me every time I moved, and the pleasure was indescribable. Legitimately, I had never felt better - my whole body was covered in a delightful warmth with the desire he created, even hotter wherever he handled me. Admission had to be made: Craig was a remarkable lover, and in other circumstances, I’d dream of finding out what else he could do with that cock as well as other parts of him. Maybe if he lived, I’d visit him in his dreams again, both to torment his soul and keep using his body for my leisure without actually allowing him the respite of death.

Actually, that even might not be much of a respite. He’d certainly be in my grounds by then. A church man who willingly gives in to a cardinal sin? Those are rarely allowed in that paradise they talk about so much.

“You were right, Craig…” I murmured between breathy whimpers, “I think I am good for more than what you said…”

His face was contorted with the effort he was making, but he still managed to keep his eyes open, meeting my gaze fiercely. “You… You really don’t shut up, do you?” He huffed as he spoke, the pleasure and the strain of repeatedly fucking into me clearly getting to him. I merely chuckled and started moving even faster - my dirty talking became uninteresting to me over the sound of our skin slapping and the mattress’ bounce.

Bringing my face down close to him again, I licked a long stripe on his cheek. Surprisingly, despite the physical exertion, he wasn’t sweating. Still, human skin was extremely tempting to any demon, and Craig’s especially so. I couldn’t help but sigh with desire, the light breath hitting right on the wet line on his face, and I fixed my position just in time to see him shudder and groan at that feeling - like the logical part of him wanted to complain and be disgusted but his body was too far gone to actually know what about.

The smell of his essence was getting stronger by the second and it took a lot from me to not both pull all my stops to make him cum and also to not finish myself from the overwhelming ecstasy. Through that haze of lust, there was still a certain competitive aspect for me - knowing that I’d come out the other side from an encounter with such a formidable opponent on the human race, someone whose essence any sex demon would kill to have, to have their abilities obscenely heightened by such great power. Knowing that, from the moment he came, he’d be mine.

“Say my name,” I honestly didn’t even remember which was the one I had told him; all that mattered was his calling out to me, acknowledging who had prevailed.

It took him a few gasps of air before an answer came. “(Y/N),” he finally husked.

Shock came through me in two different ways. First was the physical: The sound of my name on Craig’s voice made tension I didn’t even know I had over my whole body snap like an elastic that was let go after being stretched to its limits. A scream of pleasure broke free from deep inside my very being as I came around his cock, with an intensity that bordered on violent, jolts upon jolts of lightning starting from my cunt and running through every single part of me. In that moment, my nails clawed his chest viciously, actively etching marks on his skin - the force of my orgasm had me losing control of my human disguise for a brief moment, and my demonic form shone through right in front of the pastor’s eyes.

Yet he didn’t flinch from the pain or shout at the new sight. Gritting his teeth and emitting a shuddering grunt from behind them, he bucked upwards a few more erratic times before spilling fully inside of me, streams upon streams of his seed filling me up completely, seeming endless. I didn’t even have time to enjoy the brutal surge of energy that washed over me from taking in his life energy; my whole body was already too busy spasming from pleasure, and my mind couldn’t be informed of anything else, having short-circuited completely.

When I eventually came down from the orgasm that ravaged my entire system, I was finally left to deal with the second shock: The psychological. And that’s when the world stopped spinning. The part of Hell inside of me froze.

There was absolutely no way.

I hadn’t told the pastor my real name, and it was a deliberate decision, but it meant more than just any chick on a one-night stand who doesn’t want to see the guy again. For demons, our name is legitimate business. Knowing a demon’s real name means having power over them, and we don’t, under any circumstances, want another being to have that kind of hold on us; it usually means complete destruction. Most humans don't know about this, but we still avoid telling them the real thing, because they can use that power even without knowing of it.

And yet here Craig was, knowing that information and using it like it was nothing. Looking at him again, my eyes went wide as I took in his features - his lips were twisted in a wide, sadistic smirk, the most expression I had seen him sport all night. That smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which probably made the whole thing even scarier.

Every single bit of that fucking smile was legitimate. He knew.

“How do you…” There was no recognizing my voice with how weak it was as the words left my mouth. A sense of urgency made my heart race, my wide eyes denouncing the terror that shook my body. More than anything, I had to interrogate Craig: Force the information I needed out of him, then end his life in a torturous manner for even daring to say my name with that filthy human mouth of his.

Yet I found myself unable to even move, let alone speak. The questions I needed to ask never made their way to my vocal chords. I couldn’t ever have imagined that a simple church guy from a small town would manage what literally no other man had ever gotten even close to doing - he left me speechless.

“I have my means, (Y/N),” the way he kept that deadpan tone of his while my name rolled off of his lips once more made me shudder completely, “I don’t usually see your kind around here, though.”

“Wha-what are you talking about, priest?” I finally found it in me to roar, my face contorting in fury - though my speech still stuttered at the beginning, a tiny faltering that basically made the whole thing pointless.

“Pastor.”

His dry and almost ironic correction only fueled my anger. “Like I fucking care! Who do you think you are, you idiotic male?”

My nails shifted into my demonic form’s claws and I tried to swipe at his face with them, but he immediately grabbed my wrist, stopping it in midair like nothing had happened. “I told you already. I’m Craig Tucker. But I guess low-levels like you need help understanding.”

The next second was a blur. With incredible speed and strength, Craig pushed me onto my back, freeing himself from under me and shoving my legs wide open as he settled between them, placing his hands over my chest and pinning me down with such inhuman strength I was sure he could crack my ribcage right open if he really wanted to. But, judging from how he stared down at me, his intentions were different - and honestly, considering what he had become, I might’ve been in less danger if he just ripped my skin open.

The man - or rather, the entity - above me wasn’t the pastor anymore. His pupils had shifted into mere slits and his once hazel eyes now blazed a vibrant red; looking straight into them, I swore I could see all the nine circles of my birthplace in their entirety, the screams of the tortured souls echoing in my brain just like they would if I was physically all the way down there. Wide coriaceous wings spread from his back, the thick and rough onyx-colored skin that covered them sporting a slight bluish hue, barely noticeable. Of similar color were the goat-type horns that now protruded from his forehead, their bases slightly covered by his shaggy bangs. A long, pointy tail swished dangerously behind him, before twisting itself around my ankles, trapping them together.

He wasn’t an incubus. Wouldn’t have been able to overpower me so easily if he was - strength through us sex demons is measured by the power we steal from a human’s life energy rather than the biological sex our vessels embody. And he could do all that after being stripped of his energy while I was supposed to be at my prime from the best feeding of my life.

No. ‘Craig Tucker’ was something much above me, more ancient even, a being who manifested Sin itself in a way I never could. And that same being knew my true name. He had the ability to do whatever the fuck he wanted to me.

Hovering over me now was the silver cross chain, like a hypnotizing pendulum, about to bring me into something I could never snap away from.

“You got what you came for, demoness. Now, it’s my turn.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune