Outlaw Sukuna fucking the priests daughter. Inspired by this lovely series!
Your bedroom window creaked open just as the choir hit the highest noteâperfect timing. His palm slid over your mouth before you could gasp, calloused fingers smelling of gunpowder and the whiskey he'd swiped from the saloon.
"Miss me?" Sukuna rumbled against your ear, all teeth in that grin. You bit his hand instead of answering, which only made him laugh.
The floorboards groaned under his weight as he dragged you onto the mattress, the hymn downstairs muffling the rustle of skirts hiked up to your thighs. His tongue traced the crucifix at your throat before he bit down hard enough to bruise.
"Gonna make ya sing louder than them holy rollers" he promised, and you dug your nails into his back to keep from proving him right.
You could hear Father's sermon through the floor, something about repentance, while Sukuna's knee wedged between your legs, rough denim against your bare skin. His fingers weren't gentle when they found the wetness already waiting for him
"Knew you'd be like this," he taunted, dragging a thumb over your clit just to watch your hips jerk. "All that kneelinâ at the altar, and here ya areâ"
The rest was swallowed by your mouth crashing into his, teeth clashing, because if you didn't silence him, someone might hear the way he made you whimper.
He let you take control for half a second before flipping you onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the quilt your grandmother stitched. The hymn swelled below as he shoved into you from behind, one hand fisted in your hair, the other clamping over your mouth again.
Every thrust drove the bedframe into the wall in a rhythm that nearly matched the congregation's amensâclose enough. You bit down on his fingers to muffle your own rising noises, tasting iron, and he growled approval against your shoulder. The scent of himâleather, sweat, sinâfilled your lungs more thoroughly than any incense ever had.
Below, the sermon reached its crescendo about purity as Sukunaâs hips snapped forward, forcing a choked gasp from you. His grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back just enough to hear his ragged breath against your ear. "Thatâs it" he muttered, voice rough as gravel, "let âem think yâr speaking in tongues."
You muffled your moan against his palm, the taste of his skin sharp with salt and gunpowder. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. The bedframe knocked against the wall in time with his thrusts, each one deeper, until you were biting down so hard you worried youâd draw blood.
"Look at you," he murmured, almost tender if not for the way his hips kept a punishing pace. "Pretty little sinner." The words shouldnât have made your stomach flutter, but they did, and he knew itâhis chuckle was dark with satisfaction.
His fingers loosened their grip on your hair just enough to thread through it instead, pulling just shy of painful. You arched against him, rewarded with a sharp thrust that had you swallowing a whimper. âQuietâ he warned, his teeth grazing your shoulder.
The hand over your mouth slid away, replaced by his thumb brushing your bottom lip, smearing it with the salt of his skin. For a heartbeat, his rhythm slowedâalmost gentleâuntil you made the mistake of rocking back against him. His growl vibrated against your spine as he pinned you harder into the mattress, the bedframe protesting under the renewed force.
"Greedy little girl" he accused, but his palm smoothed down your side like an apology.
"Bet theyâd love to see ya like this," he mused, dragging his tongue up your spine. "All spread out for me."
You choked back a moan, fingers clawing at the quilt as he angled his hips just rightâdeep enough to make your toes curl. The hymn downstairs had faded into murmured prayers, but Sukunaâs breathing was louder.
His hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pressing down hard as he fucked you deeper, like he was trying to carve himself into you. "Ya feel that?" he gritted out, and you didâthe stretch, the heat, the way your body clenched around him like it was begging for more even as your lungs burned with suppressed cries.
"Gonna fill this womb" he growled, hips snapping forward in a brutal rhythm that had your vision blurring. "Let it take, letâem all seeâ" His fingers dug into your thigh, forcing your legs wider. "âsee how pretty youâd look carryinâ my babies."
You nodded frantically, breath hitching as he bottomed out, the stretch almost too muchâhe was always too much, thick enough to make you whimper just taking him. "More," you begged, voice cracked and ragged against the quilt, fingers twisting in the fabric as if you could pull him deeper.
His chuckle was dark with promise, one hand fisting your hair while the other spread possessively over your stomach. "Gonna ruin ya," he murmured, hips snapping forward in short, brutal strokes that punched the air from your lungs. "Fill ya so full youâll feel me for days" The thought shouldnât have made your thighs clench around him, but it did, and he groaned at the sudden tightness.
You bit the quilt to stifle a sob as his pace turned erratic, the slap of skin drowning out the faint murmur of hymns below. His fingers dug into your hip hard enough to leave bruisesâtomorrowâs penanceâas his thrusts lost all rhythm, driving into you with a desperation that burned. "Shit," he gritted out, voice raw, "gonnaâ"
The rest dissolved into a growl as he came, hips jerking forward one last time, pressing you deep into the mattress like he wanted to fuse you together. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and insistent, his grip on your hair tightening as he shudderedâthen his hand slid down to circle your clit, rough strokes coaxing you to follow. "K-kuna-" you gasped, hips bucking against his fingers, the coil in your stomach winding tighter.
Below, the congregation murmured their final amen just as your vision whited out, thighs trembling around him as you bit down on the quilt to silence your own choked cry. Sukunaâs palm muffled you again, pressing harder when your back arched, you felt his chuckle against your shoulder.
"There it isâ he murmured, fingers still working you through it, drawing out every last twitch until you went limp beneath him.
He didnât pull out immediately, just stayed buried inside you, his breath hot against your spine as the hymn downstairs faded into shuffling footsteps. His thumb brushed your lower lip, smearing it with spit and the faintest hint of blood where youâd bitten too hard. "Yâr stuck with me now."
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