Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

day 1: pride | gojo satoru - mirror sex (oct 1)

day 2: greed | toji fushiguro - overstimulation, multiple orgasms (oct 6)

day 3: lust | shoko ieiri - marathon sex (oct 11)

day 4: envy | suguru geto - possessive sex, marking (oct 16)

day 5: gluttony | kento nanami - food play, intoxication (oct 21)

day 6: wrath | ryomen sukuna - hate sex, rough sex (oct 26)

day 7: sloth | choso kamo - somnophilia, slow sex (oct 31)

Chapter Text

You just broke up with your shitty ex, are on the hunt for the ever-nebulous Meaning of Life, and it landed you in a crystal shop with your best friend.

You’re looking at a palm-sized rhodonite; the pink-and-brown crystal is apparently good for emotional healing, and a bracelet of rose quartz for self love is already in your little wicker basket. You slide the crystal into the basket, too, then turn to look at some of the books they have available.

Maybe I need to align my heart chakra, you think. Maybe then I’d stop picking these shitty assholes.

You lift your head from the bookshelf when your friend Hana calls your name from across the tiny store. You walk over curiously. “Yeah?”

She points to a slender box tucked between two shelves, black and cardboard. In white letters, the font proudly proclaims OUIJA BOARD.

You frown. “You don’t really want to play with that, do you? It’s a kid’s toy.”

She gives you a look. “Why would it be at a new age crystal shop if it was for kids?”

“Because they know it sells?” you supply.

She huffs and leans down, wiping off dust from the box. “It looks cool! Come on, it’s only…” She peeks at the price tag, “twenty-five bucks. I’ll pay. Besides, maybe we can ask the spirits why you have such shitty taste in men,” she teases, nudging you with her elbow.

You roll your eyes and turn away from her. “Fine. But if we’re gonna spend the night talking to ‘spirits,’ we’re gonna do it right.” You pick up a pack of white tea light candles from a nearby table and shove them in your basket.

“Yes!” she cheers, taking the box to the counter, along with a couple crystals she picked up for you, too. Citrine for success, and something called moldavite that she said used to be big online. She said it would bring about change in your life. You shrugged when she showed you; a little change couldn’t hurt.

When she brings the box over, the shop owner – a kind old gentleman named Terry, with silver hair and plenty of stories to tell – nodded sagely. “Ah,” he says, “this is a good one. Great energy from this board; I always knew it would go to someone special.” He winks, and you and Hana just smile politely and proceed with the checkout.

You and Hana walk out of the store, and you’re not sure if what you read about energies is real, but you do feel the loss of its atmosphere almost viscerally. You hope you can come back soon, even if you have to entertain Terry’s tall tales.

Hana climbs into the driver’s seat of her SUV, and you climb into the passenger side with your two bags from the shop. You peek into the small velvet bag you bought for your new crystals; one of them, the moldavite, was placed in a little crystal holder on a chain to be a necklace.

You put it on after you buckle your seatbelt, letting the little spiral cage rest between your breasts. You smile and look out the window at the passing cityscape.

Hana says, “You want to use the ouija board tonight?”

You shrug. “Sure. Nothing better to do than ask the great beyond about my ex.”

She laughs, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “I’m sure they’ll have many things to say about him,” she teases.

You huff, smiling out the window. “Let’s just get home and crack it open; maybe they’ll have some dating advice for me.”

The board does not seem to have dating advice – or any advice at all, actually. As soon as you spell ‘hello’ and wait for an answer, the planchet falls still, and you’re left staring blankly at Hana.

She gazes intently at the planchet beneath your fingers. “Just wait,” she says. “Something’s bound to happen.”

Nothing does.

“Maybe we need some spooky music or something?” she suggests halfheartedly.

You sigh and pull your hands away from the planchet. “Hana, this obviously doesn’t work, let’s just–”

She gives you a sharp look. “Hands back on the planchet,” she cries. “You’re opening the circle for something to get out of the board and into our realm!”

You roll your eyes. “Hana, there’s nothing there–”

“Do it!”

So you do, with a stubborn huff. You let your fingers rest on the planchet again, and maybe it’s just your frustration, your desperation for anything to happen, but the piece starts to slowly slide.

Hana gasps. “Are you doing that?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Hana. Quit playing around.”

“That’s not me,” she whispers, eyes wide as saucers. 

“Sure, it’s not,” you reply sarcastically. “You’re totally not pushing the damn thing to spook me and prove me wrong about the stupid game.”

“It’s not me!” she insists, her face pale as the planchet continues to slide from letter to letter.

C-O-M-I-N-G

“‘Coming?’” Hana echoes, her voice pitched higher in fright. “Who’s coming?”

You snort at the innuendo. “You have to be playing with me right now,” you say.

“I’m not!” she cries as your hands slowly start to move again.

W-E A-R-E C-O-M-I-N-G

“Either these ghosts have a crude taste in humor,” you say dryly, “or your subconscious has a filthy mind.”

She gives you a dirty look as the planchet continues to slide.

T-O-N-I-G-H-T

W-E A-R-E C-O-M-I-N-G

GOODBYE

Then, as the planchet rests at the bottom of the board, everything goes still again.

Hana is fighting to breathe. “Oh my god,” she pants, her eyes still frozen on the board.

You’re still not convinced. “Can I remove my hands now?”

She throws her hands in the air, exasperated and seemingly infuriated with your disbelief. “You seriously still think I’m messing with you? That wasn’t me!”

“Maybe it wasn’t you consciously,” you reason with her. “But these things work because you want it to work, Hana. It’s all about the subconscious.”

She splutters profanities and hits you with a pillow from the couch. You wince. “I’m staying the night,” she says, already stomping towards the bedroom. “To make sure you didn’t let any demons into your apartment!” she shrieks.

“The only demon here,” you mutter under your breath, getting up to follow her, “is you.”

You rest very peacefully that night.

You’ve never really believed in ghosts, or demons, or whatever Hana’s afraid of. One stop at a metaphysical shop won’t change that. So you curl up in bed beside your best friend and wish her good night, and when you switch off the lamp, you don’t even consider whether something sinister hides in the shadows.

You simply close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Your dreams, however, are not quite as peaceful.

Your mind conjures up images of ghosts, of demons, of monsters in the dark. You grimace and roll over in your sleep, sighing softly into your pillows, and just as you’re about to fall back asleep…

A soft whisper brushes against your ear. “Wakey, wakey.”

Your eyes flash open, and in one clumsy movement, you throw yourself out of bed and stumble backwards, legs tangled in the blankets. You nearly trip as you turn and, chest heaving, stare at the bed.

There, right in the middle of your mattress, lies a tall, slim man, with a shock of white hair atop his head. But what catches your attention isn’t his hair, or his handsome face, or his ridiculously gorgeous body. What catches your eye is instead the six eyes that all blink in tandem with each other, so blue they’re almost glowing in the dark of your room, and the long, curved ivory horns that protrude from beneath his hair and curl back and up from his head.

And for a moment, all you can focus on is how inhuman he looks.

You shriek, scrambling backwards another couple of steps. “How did you get in here?!”

The man grins, showing off pearly white teeth with two prominent canines. His smile glints in the low light. “Aw, pretty girl, your friend told you exactly what happened. You let me in when you took your hands off that planchet.”

At the mention of Hana, who is no longer in your bed, you demand, trying to sound brave, “What the hell did you do to her?”

He laughs, tossing his head back, revealing the curve of his throat. Your body stirs at the sight – no, what’s wrong with you? – before you shake your head and refocus. But it’s hard, with a sudden heat sweltering inside your chest. “Your friend is fine,” he says in a tone that’s clearly meant to be soothing. “She’s back in the mortal world.”

You scoff at his words. “And you expect me to believe, what? That we’re in some supernatural realm?”

He flashes his teeth again. “Exactly.”

“Bullshit,” you spit. “What did you do to her?”

He sighs dramatically, his muscular chest rising and falling heavily before he shifts on the bed, the sheet falling from around his hips to reveal black – rather slutty – underwear and nothing else. You avert your eyes.

He walks up to you, legs a mile long as he looms over you, his eyes unnaturally bright. He stares down at you, examining you, before he grins and gets right in your face, so you can feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. You try to pick a pair of eyes to stare at, and he smirks.

“She’s fine, pretty,” he says, his voice soft. “You’re the one who’s, arguably, in trouble here.”

Heat flares through your chest again, this time blooming up your neck all the way to your cheeks as you flush. Before you can reply, you feel something slowly stroke up the side of your thigh, inching higher towards the hem of your pajama shorts…

You go to smack away what you presumed was his hand, but you let out a cry when your hand connects to something more resembling an ivory whip, the same color as his horns, with a double-forked tip. It lashes away from your touch, and you follow it up, up, until you see the base disappear under his skimpy underwear.

He’s got a tail.

He chuckles, and the sound is sultry and sinful, like smoke curling across a club dance floor. “Figured it out yet?” he whispers.

You fight to swallow. “You’re a demon…”

He nods, grinning as he nips your ear, careful not to hurt you with his sharp canines. “We came through your little board last night… ‘We are coming;’ funny, huh? That was my idea.”

I shiver, not finding the situation very funny at all. “Why are you here?”

He croons in your ear, “‘Cause you opened the door for us, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t we come through?”

You beg, “Where’s Hana?”

“I already told you, she’s safely back in your bed. Cute that you guys sleep together; almost thought you were taken for a moment when we crossed over.” He sighs happily, his clawed hand slowly trailing up your side, pushing up your pajama shirt. Your breath hitches, and what is this traitorous pleasure that’s curling its way into your gut? You shouldn’t find him attractive; you should find him monstrous!

His tongue, unnaturally long, licks up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of burning hot saliva. “It’s normal,” he coos, like he’s trying to make you relax into him. “Humans… they can’t resist us. Can’t seem to convince themselves that we’re unnatural, that we’re horrific. Instead, you just want me… don’t you?” He pulls away to look at you, all six eyes looking at you through heavy lids, through white lashes. Not quite taunting, but all-knowing, like he can already see your panties dripping with arousal through your shorts.

You slowly shake your head. “This is…” You huff, blinking away the haze clouding your vision. “This is crazy. I must be dreaming.”

He smiles again, showing off those long fangs once more, and lets his tongue loll out the side of his mouth, licking his lips. “Then I’ll show you the best dream you’ve ever had,” he purrs, and then he grabs you with his clawed hands and guides you back to the bed with quick, long strides. You stumble backwards, caught off guard, but he just hauls you up on the bed with his strong arms and lays you onto the pillows. You gasp as you lay back, instinctively gripping his biceps as he grins devilishly and licks his teeth with his unnaturally long tongue.

“You look fucking delicious beneath me,” he croons, one of his hands coming up to stroke your cheek. Then he dives in and nips your lower lip, sharp canines digging into the soft, plump flesh before he parts his lips and kisses you.

You gasp again, this time into his mouth while he brushes his tongue against your lips. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside the heat of your mouth, and as it swipes against yours, you almost feel like you’re choking on it. It dives deeper, tasting the back of your tongue, and you gag, tears pricking your eyes.

He hums, tongue swirling with yours before he pulls away just enough to speak. “You are fucking delicious,” he says, and it sounds like he actually wants to devour you, to take your pleasure and consume it. He leans back in and sucks harshly on your lower lip, biting it again until hot, painful pleasure arcs up your spine like electricity.

His hands move to your hips, and in one smooth motion he’s flipping you over so you rest on your stomach on the mattress. As he does, in the span of one blink, the room transforms from your bedroom into a fully mirrored chamber, with mirrors the size of each wall all around your bed, even above you on the ceiling. You look around, astounded by the magical show, but you can barely concentrate on the change of scenery before he puts a hand in your hair and yanks your head back, making your back arch beautifully for him.

He leans forward, his chest against your back, until his lips press against your ear. “You keep your eyes on me, okay, pretty?” he says before harshly biting the side of your neck, leaving indents of his teeth on your skin.

You shiver at the sensation, at the feel of his warm breath on the side of your face and neck. “Okay,” you say meekly, and you can feel his grin as he starts to trail kisses up the side of your neck.

“Good girl,” he praises, and his voice sounds sinful, delicious – enough to make the wet spot between your thighs grow ever darker. Then he dips his fingers beneath the hem of your pajama shirt and slowly pushes it up your body. He discards the fabric off the bed, where it falls in a heap on the mirror that now makes up the floor. He does the same with your shorts, and then he reaches down and brushes the pads of his long, slim fingers over the gusset of your panties.

He groans. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

You whimper and buck your hips, begging for stimulation, for him to touch you the way your body knows he can. He grins, his long tongue lolling out in excitement at the way you tilt your hips into his touch. He rubs over your panties with a little more pressure, just barely enough to drag the fabric over your sensitive, puffy outer lips.

You need more. You tell him so. “More,” you pant, back arching even further until you’re presented so gorgeously before him that you hope it tempts this demon to take you.

He just grins a little wider and nips your ear. “What do you say?” he asks playfully, fingers tracing lighter little circles over your pubic bone, moving away from where you need him most.

You whine, fingers digging into the sheets in desperation. “Please,” you beg, chest heaving as you buck your hips against his pelvis, hoping the stimulation will be even more of a temptation.

You can feel him, thick and hard and pulsing, through his skimpy underwear.

He growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back. One hand grips your hip with bruising pressure, while the other presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing a little faster now, a little harder. “Please what?”

You’re practically gasping now, eyes squeezed shut as you chase the sensations, hips grinding into his hand like you can chase down your orgasm and force him to give it to you. “Please, touch me.”

A sharp thwack! makes you jolt in surprise, the sound hitting you first. Then, the pain, blooming over your ass cheek in the shape of his large hard. Your eyes fly open in surprise, and you meet his glowing, sinister eyes in the mirror.

“I said,” he enunciates, his voice low and dangerous, “keep your eyes on me. Close them again, and I’ll make you choke on this cock.”

That’s hardly a punishment, you think, but you don’t want to taunt him. He might not touch you if you do. So you just nod quickly, eyes still on all six of his as he goes back to lightly touching you.

“Good girl,” he says again, his voice lightening up once more into that playful lilt. “Now, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me,” you say, 

He chuckles, grinning as he nips your neck. “Touch you where, huh?”

You shiver at his words; you’ve never had to explicitly say what you wanted before. You fight to swallow your pride before you whisper, “Touch my pussy.”

He nods, licking a line up your throat. “Very good,” he praises, and then his fingers dive beneath the hem of your panties to spread apart your swollen folds. He gathers your arousal onto the pads of his fingers, humming at the heat of your core. “So fucking wet, baby. Tell me it’s all for me.”

You choke it out, eyes still locked on him, watching his hand through your underwear. “It’s all for you.”

He whispers in your ear. “Say, ‘I’m so wet for you, Gojo.’”

You repeat obediently, “I’m so wet for you, Gojo.”

“Say, ‘I need you, Gojo.’”

You whine, “I need you, Gojo.”

He grins and nods, and then his long middle finger finally, finally, dips into your pussy, teasing your entrance before he dives inside.

You’re so relieved you almost weep, tears burning your eyes as he strokes the inside of your drooling cunt. The claws of his other hand dig into your hip, but you can’t feel anything sharp or intrusive inside you, so you wonder if they’re retractable, if he can make parts of himself seem more or less human depending on the situation.

You’re grateful, because you’re not sure you could have taken a sharp claw as beautifully as you’re taking his finger.

His pace is slow and measured, easing inside you and brushing lightly against your g-spot. Once you’re able to accommodate that finger, he adds another, and the thickness is divine as he fills you up, pumping in and out with a gentle curl at the end. His thumb, dexterous and controlled, draws little circles on your clit as he thrusts.

The entire time, even as he works you up towards your orgasm, you maintain eye contact through the mirror.

He’s grinning as he watches you, watches your lips part as he fucks you with his fingers in a steady rhythm. Watches the way you twitch when he reaches depths inside you that your own fingers could never reach.

Watches the way you keep your eyes obediently on him.

As the white-hot coil of pleasure in your belly starts to tighten, starts to wind up, starts to shatter, your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull. But you keep your eyes on him, stubbornly, just so he won’t stop at the most pivotal moment, won’t leave you high and dry, won’t punish you again by forcing an early end to your orgasm.

And so, because you’re being such a good girl, he lets you fall over the edge of your pleasure, walls clenching around his fingers. You buckle underneath him, falling face first into the pillows as you moan and cry out his name.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

Through the mirror, you watch him put his fingers into his mouth and suck them clean, his long tongue swirling around his knuckles. Arousal shoots through your lower belly like a flame as you watch him moan over your taste. One pair of his six eyes shuts as he groans around his fingers, while the others stay trained on you, making sure you don’t look away.

Once his fingers are licked clean, he grabs your hips and bends you back into an arch, forcing you down before he removes his underwear. Then, as he takes his hard, throbbing cock into his hand and smears his spit over the head, jerking it twice. His hips stutter with each stroke, and then he positions himself at your entrance, covering the tip with your decadent slick.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, canting his hips forward and dragging his length between your sopping lips. Your hips twitch with each pass as he hits your overstimulated clit. “You’re so goddamn pretty; let me put it in, won’t you? Come on, watch me while I fuck you, baby; watch me fucking ruin you.”

At your nod, he groans again, and he uses his hand to guide his dick to kiss the entrance of your soaking, still-fluttering cunt. Then he slowly pushes inside, the wet sounds echoing off the mirrored walls.

He’s big, long and girthy in a way that stretches you perfectly. You whimper softly, eyes threatening to roll back, but Gojo lightly smacks your ass to keep you concentrated on him. “Come on, baby, you gotta watch me, okay? Eyes on me.”

So you level your eyes with his, lips parted in euphoria as he continues to thrust forward, his pace still achingly slow. The steady stretch of him forces the air from your lungs, and your breath hitches when he finally bottoms out, the curve of him brushing against your g-spot as he plugs you full.

Then he starts moving, and he ravages you.

He’s pounding into you, so fucking fast and rough that you can’t possibly keep your eyes on him. And when your eyes roll back, he spanks you again, this time harder than the last, demanding with an authoritative tone for you to keep your eyes on him.

“I-I c-c-can’t–” you cry, fingers knotting in the sheets, face pressed into the pillows.

He grabs your hair and forces your face up, growling in your ear with a menacing voice, “You have to. It’s not a request. Keep your eyes on me, or I stop.”

So you try your best to watch him fuck you, watching how his hips tilt forward, shoving his cock all the way inside before pulling back, leaving only the tip inside before he slams back forward. His pace is incomprehensible, and his tail flicks from side to side as he fucks into you so fast it’s nearly blinding.

Your orgasm is building, building, building, and then your vision flashes white, and you can barely see him in the mirror as you scream, cumming so hard your thighs collapse beneath him.

All he does is change his angle, and then he’s fucking down into you, brutalizing your pussy as you just lie there and take it. His fingers are still wound into your hair, holding up your head while he fucks you. His gaze is just as intense as his pace, two pairs of eyes locked on yours while the other watches your pussy slurp him up, stretched around his girth as he pounds into you.

You watch him through the mirror, and you see his body starting to show the signs of his own impending pleasure. His chest heaves, and as you watch, two massive bat-like wings erupt from his back, stretched to their full wingspan as he continues to fuck you from behind.

He groans, and when he looks into the mirror, he's no longer watching you; he's watching himself.

The idea that he's getting off on his own inhuman beauty just ramps up your own pleasure.

You cum again, walls fluttering around him, threatening to milk him dry. And as you do, he groans, his voice pitching higher with desperation. “I’m gonna cum,” he pants, and his rhythm starts to fall flat as he threatens to pump you full. “Roll over, baby; come on, roll over and let me see your face.”

You’re too weak, too fucking devastated, to move, so he grabs your hips and does it for you, rolling you over onto your back. Then he crawls up your body until he’s straddling your ribs, and he throws his head back as he pumps his hand over his cock, stroking the head. The wet sounds are filthy as he does, and he’s nearly whining, still talking you through it. “I’m gonna cum, baby, o-oh shit, I’m gonna paint you with it; fuck, close your eyes, baby; I’m cumming–”

And then ropes of hot, burning cum shoot over your face. It lands on your lips, your nose, your closed eyelids, nearly scalding in its hellish heat. You open your mouth and lick your lips, tasting it, letting it sit on your tongue for a moment before you swallow.

He groans at the sight. “You’re perfect,” he sighs, dropping his head to his chin. Then he climbs off of you and rolls you back onto your hands and knees, grabbing your jaw between his long fingers and forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look at you,” he whispers in your ear, licking the lobe before taking it between his teeth. “Look at us. Aren’t we just perfect?”

And you continue staring, watching the beads of cum on your face slowly drip down towards the bed below.

Then he kisses the side of your neck, right over the bite mark he left you before. He whispers, “Sleep now. You should be well-rested for the others.” And with that, he lets out a little chuckle, before guiding you back to the bed and tucking you in.

Exhausted and wrung nearly dry, you let your eyes flutter shut and fall asleep to his soft, soothing whispers.

When you wake in the morning, Hana is in the bed beside you, still sleeping.

You wipe your hand over your face, expecting to find it covered in sticky cum, but you find only your soft skin, soothed by your skin care routine last night. You peek under the blanket to find yourself fully dressed in your pajamas.

The only proof you find to tell you that last night wasn’t a dream is a bite mark on the side of your neck, red and sore.

You put on a turtleneck sweater before Hana can wake up and ask you about it. And you come back to the ouija board, packing it up along with the candles, getting it ready to return to the shop.

Because although you enjoyed last night – although he absolutely broke you, dismantled you and put you back together again – you aren’t sure that fucking demons will go over very well in the end.

Chapter Text

You go back to the crystal shop that morning at 10 am sharp, right when it opens.

You’re disheveled, hair tied up messily, clothes mussed…

And you can barely walk.

You hobble out of your car and into the shop, bringing the ouija board to the check-out counter and offering a tight-lipped smile to Terry.

“I need to return this,” you tell him, sliding the box across the counter.

He chuckles softly and slides it back towards you. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but all sales are final. Just store policy. What if someone cursed the board? We wouldn’t want to pass that curse to another customer, now, would we?”

You want to tell him that the board must have come cursed, because what the hell else could cause what happened last night? But you can’t tell this sweet old man about any of that – you think you’d give him a heart attack if he heard about what that demon Gojo did to you…

You self-consciously fix the collar of your turtleneck, making sure your dark hickey is hidden beneath. You clear your throat. “So, if I think something got in through the board… How would I fix that?”

Terry immediately looks concerned. “You think something came through the board? Did someone break the circle last night?”

You look at him, confused. “Break the circle?” you ask.

He nods. “Take your hands off the planchet, let the planchet fall, let the spirits count down through the numbers or alphabet. Any of those can break the circle and allow a spirit through.”

You immediately, guiltily, think of when you took your hand off the planchet. You didn’t believe Hana when she panicked, but maybe you really did let something through. “I’m not sure,” you hedge, unwilling to admit your fault in the matter. “If someone did, how would you get rid of a spirit?”

Terry hums thoughtfully, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, classic smudging or cleansing rituals should work for a normal spirit. Using incense, sage, or cleansing crystals should work. I’ll help you find some.”

He helps you look through incense sticks and sells you a flashy selenite crystal. He tells you how to cleanse objects and rooms, going around your room saying a chant you think is silly, but worth trying either way. Then he sends you home with your bag of new items to go cleanse your apartment.

When you get back, you convince Hana that you’re just doing this all to humor her, to make sure you’re both safe from anything you may have let in when you broke the circle. She looks pleased, and she helps you cleanse the living room, where you used the ouija board, and your bedroom. Then you place crystals around the house and go about the rest of your day, cautiously optimistic for the night ahead. By the time Hana leaves to return to her apartment, there hasn't been a single sign of another demon entering your place.

Once it’s time for bed, the day having passed without incident, you’re convinced that you’ll be okay. If the demon Gojo – or the “others” he spoke of – can’t reach you during the day, surely they won’t be able to at night, once the cleansing has had time to sit.

So you snuggle into bed, curling up in the lingering incense smoke, and shut your eyes, believing all will be okay when you wake in the morning.

Then, once again at 3 am sharp, you wake to the sound of someone shifting in bed beside you. You open your eyes and meet unfamiliar emerald green. Your own eyes widen, and you shoot up in bed, shrieking in surprise. 

The man — or, you suppose, the demon, because you can see his twisted horns protruding from his dark hair — chuckles and offers a smirk. He's got a scar at one corner of his mouth, making the expression seem much more dangerous.

"Hey, sexy," he greets, the raspy tenor of his voice spiking arousal through you before he even touches you. He sits up in bed, revealing the broad, muscular planes of his chest. "So you're the one Gojo was talking about, huh? He was right; you are a pretty thing."

You blush to think that a demon would rave about you to his friends. It's flattering, in some sick way. You shake the thought away. "I cleansed my apartment," you say, glaring at him with all the strength you can muster. "You aren't supposed to be here."

The man scoffs and waves his hand. "That shit doesn't work. Once we're in, the only way you're getting rid of us is with an exorcism. Which most of the church doesn't do anymore. Face it, doll, you're stuck with us till we've had our fill."

You grit your teeth. "I'll call the church and get a special order," you threaten, but the man just chuckles, shaking his head. His dark hair flutters in front of his eyes.

"Like I said, the church won't help you. You're stuck with us." He leans over until his face is right in front of yours, a wicked grin on his face, revealing his prominent canines. "And I, for one, won't let you get away so easy."

He leans in, one hand threading through your hair to pull you towards him, and then he crushes his lips against yours.

It's filthy, all-consuming. His long tongue parts your lips and slides between them, tangling with your own. His spit is hot, nearly scalding as it mixes with yours. You moan into his mouth, already overcome with pleasure as he kisses you. Your body arches into his, and you throw one leg over his, straddling his beefy thigh.

Before you can start to grind down on him, he rolls over and leans you back against the pillows, and you groan in frustration.

He pulls away and smirks at you, scar puckering slightly. "Be patient, little human," he drawls, and then he starts kissing down your neck, tongue trailing lines of heat across your skin. His sharp canines dig into a spot beside the bruise Gojo left the previous night, where he leaves his own mark. You cry out softly at the sting of it, but he just quietly shushes you and runs his tongue over the mark to soothe the pain.

Then he inches his clawed hands up your sides, pulling your sleep shirt up your body. He hums, low in his chest, at the sight of your bare torso as he inches the shirt up towards your shoulders. "Lift your arms," he commands, and you do, raising them above your head as he pulls off your shirt. He tosses the fabric off the side of the bed, and then he ducks his head and kisses down your neck and shoulders, towards your chest. He looks up at you through his lashes before he licks a line up to your nipple, then takes it in his mouth and swirls his long tongue around it. You let out a whimpering moan, and he smirks up at you before letting go with a pop.

"Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, his tongue swirling around your nipple once more before slowly licking a line of heat lower, lower…

He reaches the waistband of your shorts, and he dips his clawed fingers underneath the elastic to start pulling them down your legs. Then he does the same with your panties, your wetness causing the fabric to stick to your cunt before he tugs them off.

He spreads your legs, pushing your knees up towards your chest to fully open you up. You squirm, embarrassed by how exposed you are, but he just spanks your thigh, grinning up at you.

"Be good," he rumbles, "and you'll get what you want." And then he drags his long, burning tongue through your folds, from slit to clit, and your hips jolt at the sudden stimulation.

His tongue swirls circles over your clit, slow and torturous, and you're already sensitive and whining beneath him. He chuckles, and the vibration of the sound sends pleasure arcing up your spine like electricity.

He pulls away and licks his teeth, long tongue running over sharp fangs. "You taste good, doll," he says, and then he dives back in with more fervor, drawing perfect little circles on your clit until you're gasping. Your chest heaves as your fingers sink into his dark hair. "O-oh my god," you whimper, and his eyes smirk up at you as he drags you towards your first orgasm of the night.

His tongue slows on you, helping you down from your climax. Then he pulls away, licking his lips once more.

You think that's it. That he'll fuck you, cum for you, and you'll be done for the night. Just like Gojo.

Oh, how wrong you are.

He hums to himself, the sound almost thoughtful. And then he leans back in and starts lapping at your clit again, this time a little lighter, gentler.

You stiffen and gasp. "What are you doing?" you ask, and your hands come up to try to push his face away from your soaking cunt.

He chuckles and swats your hands away. He pins them to your side and says, "What's it look like I'm doing, ma?" His breath puffs against your pussy, and it stirs something deep in your gut. He buries his face between your legs again, eating you out just as perfectly as before. "You can give me another one, can'tcha?"

You cum again, and then you're sure that he's done.

You're wrong again.

This time he spreads your legs even further, opening you up to his mouth as he sucks at your clit. Your hips jump in his hands, overstimulated, but he doesn't seem to care as he swirls his tongue before pushing it inside you. You cry out at the sudden heat, at the sudden fullness inside you, and your entire body bows off the bed. He chuckles, open-mouthed and hot against your cunt. He pulls back enough to spit on your pussy before plunging his tongue back in, thrusting slowly in and out as he tastes you so fully.

"Fuck, doll," he groans, his eyes rolling back, "you're so fucking wet."

You sob, your hands diving into his dark hair. "I-it's too much!" you cry.

"Nah, baby, it's not enough." He starts lapping at your clit again, swirling those perfect circles, and you fall apart again, thighs shaking as you let out obscene, nearly pornographic moans.

"Come on, ma," he whispers, "give me another one."

You whimper, trying to fight it. Trying to squeeze your legs shut and cut him off from your sweet cunt, but he won't let you. His hands pry your legs apart, and he just moves his tongue more insistently against your clit, green eyes trained on your face as your breath hitches. Your lips part, and you let out little gasps and moans as he forces you towards another orgasm.

Then, once you're twitching and spasming with the overwhelming aftershocks of your nth climax, he finally rises up on his knees and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He grins down at you. "Had enough?" he asks tauntingly.

You nod, dazed and drunk on pleasure.

He chuckles. "That's good, ma. Real good." And he rolls you over onto your stomach, pressing on your shoulder blades to push you into an arch.

Then he slowly slides inside, your cunt so wet and pliable that he easily pushes in.

You're already drooling into the pillow and he hasn't even moved.

He growls in your ear, slowly starting to thrust into you. "Fucking pussy's milking me," he rumbles, pulling back to watch your cunt swallow him whole. He thrusts a little harder, eyes locked on where you're connected.

You moan desperately into the pillows, your eyes rolling back as he hits your g-spot with every thrust. He chuckles again, but this time it sounds a little breathless, like he's just as affected as you are. "So fuckin' responsive. Like you were made to take dick." He reaches around to play with your clit again, and when you try to squirm away from his touch — away from the stimulation — he just smacks your ass and drags you back towards him. "Not tonight, ma; you're not running from me."

So he continues to pound into you, each movement a devastating stroke as he circles your clit. He sends you careening towards another orgasm, and when you do, you feel his pace stutter for a moment. "Fuck, not gonna last when you clench around me like that." He doesn't stop rubbing your clit, and it's overwhelming now, your orgasm carrying on for what feels like several minutes as your hips writhe against his.

As you buck back against him, you feel his rhythm falter again, slamming into you harder and faster as he chases his own high. He lets out inhuman grunts and growls, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, his thrusts harder and faster and deeper. "Come on," he pants, still circling your clit. "Gimme one more."

And so you do, shattering with a moan so loud it's nearly pornographic. You clamp down around him, and as you do, his cock twitches inside you, spilling molten heat into your cunt as he cums.

He collapses with a grunt against your back, heavy and slick with sweat. His breath is ragged in your ear, but you're simply overcome, still twitching and oversensitive, even as he slowly pulls out and rolls over onto his back, tugging you to his side.

He lets out a contented sigh, shutting his eyes, and you squirm to get comfortable. As you do, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you look over.

You shriek and point to the giant purple worm writhing on your bedroom floor. "What is that thing?"

Toji just chuckles and crosses his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh, that?" He shrugs.

"He just likes to watch."

Chapter Text

You're practically hungover the next morning.

You barely get out of bed, only to eat and use the restroom, and even then you move like the undead as you shuffle into the kitchen or bathroom. You text Hana, making sure she's okay, and when she doesn't mention any supernatural visitors at her place, you're relieved that at least one of you has been spared this strange — albeit pleasurable — fate.

You sleep the day away, so when night comes, you're already awake when someone slides into your bed behind your back.

You turn over, and you're surprised to see a woman this time. Her horns are shorter, a deep chestnut brown that matches her long brunette hair. Her eyes are deep brown, too, and she's looking at you with a smirk as she smokes a cigarette.

"Hey, pretty little thing," she says, her voice low and sultry. When she speaks, her fangs flash, which are also a little shorter than either Gojo's or Toji's. "I hope the boys have been treating you well so far."

You gulp. "I didn't know they'd send…"

She laughs, tossing back her long brown hair. She grins at you. "A lady demon? We're in short supply, but the way the boys raved about you, I couldn't help but stop by." She takes another drag from the cigarette, and smoke curls around you both. You let out a little cough, and she smirks and leans over to the bedside table, putting the cigarette out on an opulent silver ashtray that wasn't there when you went to bed.

Then she turns back to you. "You look nervous," she observes, brown eyes trailing over your expression.

You stammer, "I-I'm not nervous, I just… I've never…"

The demon smiles again, flashing her pointy fangs. "Never been with a woman?" she guesses. She leans in a little and purrs, "Then let me show you what you've been missing, sweet thing." And then she closes the distance and kisses you.

Her lips are soft and plush against yours, and she tastes like nicotine and hellfire. You part your own, letting her taste you back, her long tongue slipping between them. Her claws dig into your waist, tugging you close until your body arches into hers. She kisses you slowly, thoroughly, until you're panting into her mouth.

Then her lips start trailing lower.

She kisses down your neck, her tongue licking heat along the column of your throat. Your head tips back, allowing her more access to your body, and you feel her grin as her fangs dig into your flesh, right beside the marks that were left by Toji and Gojo.

She inches lower, towards the collar of your t-shirt. "Can I take this off, pretty thing?" she asks.

You nod, arching into her. She smiles again and pulls your shirt over your head, baring your chest to her gaze. Then she leans down and flicks her tongue against your nipple, watching it harden beneath her touch.

"So responsive," she says. "Can't wait to see what you're like when I touch you properly."

Her claws retract, and then she's sliding her hand beneath the edge of your panties, feeling how wet you already are for her. She hums, her tongue swirling your nipple. "Such a good little pet," she murmurs.

Your cunt flutters at the new pet name. She feels it against her fingers, and she grins again as she slowly sinks her middle two fingers inside you. She strokes them in a way you've never felt before, not pulling them out but curling them, and it's so deliciously pleasurable that you can't help but buck your hips into her hand, chasing the pleasure.

She chuckles and slowly pulls out her fingers. You whine, but she just places a kiss over your heart and smiles up at you. "Patience, pet," she says. Then she kisses her way the rest of the way down your body and slowly starts pulling your panties down your legs.

She spreads your thighs, sighing in contentment when she sees your drooling pussy, and looks up at you through her long lashes. "Ready?" she asks.

You nod, lips parted and eyes already hazy with pleasure. She grins and dives into your pussy, making out with your cunt. She doesn't focus on your clit yet; she just tastes, swirling her tongue around. Then, before you can prepare yourself, she slowly pushes her tongue inside your pussy, tasting you deeply. You cry out, hips jolting at the sensation, at the heat of her tongue inside you. It's long enough to nudge against your g-spot, and you're already moaning and writhing beneath her hands.

She pulls back enough to lick your clit, movements nearly ravenous.

She eats you out like she's starving, moaning into your cunt as she laps at your clit. And she's humping the bed like she's desperate, taking her own pleasure in your sounds as you cry out for her.

"So pretty," she whines into your cunt. "Come on, cum for me. Please, pet, give it to me."

She works you higher and higher and higher, until you shatter. Pleasure curls in your gut until you're trembling and cumming so hard your vision flashes white. And all the while, she doesn't stop licking your clit, working you through it and prolonging your orgasm until you're forced to push her face away from your pussy.

She just grins again and licks her lips. She moans again, eyes rolling back. "So damn sweet."

And that's when you realize she's not doing this for your pleasure; she's doing it for hers.

She crawls her way up your body, kissing you again to let you taste yourself on her lips. Her tongue is all over, coaxing your lips open, swiping against your tongue, licking your teeth. Her movements are feverish, nearly frenzied, in the search of pleasure. Then she pulls away, a string of spit connecting your mouths before it snaps. "Please, eat me out," she pants, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "Please, please, need your mouth on me."

You stutter nervously, "I-I don't know how."

"It's okay; I'll teach you." She's still breathing heavily, brown eyes no longer seductive but now begging and pleading. "Please, please, I need your mouth."

You nod, still a little nervous. She shimmies up your body until her knees are by your shoulders, her bare pussy hovering over your face. "Open your mouth," she breathes, and when you do, tongue protruding from between your lips, she slowly grinds down onto it. Your tongue drags from her cunt to her clit, and your eyes fall shut at the taste of her.

She tastes like heaven, sweet with a tang of that hellfire you tasted on her lips. Your tongue curls up to bump against her clit, and she gasps, her entire body rocking against your mouth. You moan at the feeling of her weight on your face, and one hand unconsciously reaches up to grab a fistful of her breast, your thumb brushing her nipple. She moans, too, her back arching into your hand as she grinds down onto your mouth. You're taken aback by just how responsive she is; you're still learning how to eat her out correctly, but she's acting like you're already a pro. And though it is an ego boost, you wonder if she might just be so hungry for it that every swipe of your tongue brings her closer.

"L-lick my clit," she begs, tripping over her words in her desperation. So you do, tipping your chin and lapping at it with a focused tongue, just like she had done to yours. You take what you know you like and try to emulate it, circling her clit clumsily but passionately.

She guides you through what she wants you to do, in that sweet, pleading voice. And you can't help but give her everything she wants and needs. She reaches down to grip your hair and rolls her hips down into your mouth again, movements so goddamn lustful that it makes your own gut burn with desire.

It doesn't take her long to get to the edge. You take that as a sign that you must be doing something right.

Or maybe she's just desperate.

"Yeah, yeah," she pants, throwing her head back so her long hair cascades down her back. "I'm gonna cum, pretty thing, I'm so close. Please, please please—"

Her hips roll one last time onto your tongue, and then she's cumming, falling forward so her hands grip the headboard as she convulses on top of you. Her thighs tighten around your head till you're nearly suffocating, but you don't care as you continue to work her through her orgasm.

She droops against the headboard, hips twitching. As your hands come to rest on her waist, she slowly sinks down so her face is above yours again.

She kisses you, taking a taste of herself. It makes you both moan into each other's mouths.

When she pulls back, she's wearing another smile, this one a bit more bashful. "Sorry," she says, "if I was a little needy. I just…" Her clawed fingers curl into your hair. "I really like the way it feels."

You think to yourself that everyone must like how it feels, or they wouldn't be doing this over and over again — you certainly like it. But before you can verbalize any of it, she brings your mouth back to hers and kisses you again, her tongue tangling with yours. She moans into the kiss, and you swallow the sound as she starts to slowly roll her hips into yours, like she's already chasing another orgasm.

She throws her leg over one of your thighs, straddling it and firmly rocking her hips. She grinds her wet, slick pussy against your thigh, and as she does, she reaches down and starts sliding her fingers inside you to get you off, too. You whimper, and she moans, dropping her head onto your chest as she rides your thigh. She does that same curling motion with her fingers, stroking your g-spot with maddening pressure. Pleasure curls dangerously tight in your gut, and your thigh starts to shake beneath her hips, only adding to her own pleasure.

You cum on her fingers, your hips jerking and writhing, and your trembling thigh bumps her clit just right to make her tumble over the edge, too.

She collapses onto your chest, panting and gasping, but she's not still for long. Soon she's crawling off of you and reaching over the edge of the bed for something you can't see.

She comes back towards you, now wearing a black strap with a wicked curve. You gulp at the sight.

She's back to grinning now. "It'll feel good," she says, "I promise."

And as she slowly slides inside, she gasps and moans, like she can feel how tight and wet and warm you are. You wonder if she can.

You wouldn't put it past some extra-dimensional demon powers to give her sensation.

She strokes in and out of you, her hips stuttering like she's overwhelmed by everything she feels, like she's chasing it down with insatiable need. Your nails dig into the soft slope of her shoulders as the strap nudges against your g-spot, and her eyes start to roll back as she starts to fuck you faster, more desperately. Her full lips part, and you can't help but lean up and kiss her, sloppy and uncoordinated. Your tongues swirl and stroke against each other, sharing each other's sweet spit.

She pulls back to pant against your lips, "Please tell me you're close. Come on, pet, tell me. Tell me how good this feels."

You choke out, "F-feels so f-fucking good…"

She moans, throwing her head back, and her hips meet yours more forcefully as she orgasms again, her cunt clenching around nothing as the strap continues to bully against your g-spot.

You see stars as she forces you into an orgasm of your own. Your back arches off the bed, and she whines into your shoulder, humping into you and stroking your g-spot even harder—

You cum again before you can even catch a breath. It's like a continuous wave of pleasure, endless and torturous and mouthwatering all at the same time. Your body can't catch up, and you're panting and writhing and crying out for her to stop and keep going and oh god this might be the end of you—

She doesn't stop. She keeps going, because she's chasing her own pleasure more than yours. And she can't stop, else this night come to an end without her collapsing into you, completely wrung out and exhausted.

So she goes, and goes, and goes, fucking you until you're dumb. Until she's nothing but a mess above you, behind you, beneath you, drooling and fucked out just like you are.

Finally, when she comes to a stop and takes off the strap, she collapses onto your chest, your shared slick pooled beneath your hips. She murmurs, "Thanks, pet."

And, for the first time that week, the demon is the first to fall asleep beside you.

You reach up a shaky hand and stroke her hair, and she nuzzles closer, burying her nose into the crook of your neck. You let your eyes drift closed, and you fall asleep with her on top of you, chests pressed together intimately, almost tenderly.

Chapter Text

You're starting to sleep naked, now that you know nothing will stop the next demon from coming.

You curl up under the covers, pussy already dripping in…acceptance? Anticipation? You're not sure. You almost don't want to sleep, don't want to miss a moment of pleasure that these demons have given you. But you're still exhausted from the previous night, so you can't help but let your eyes close. You drift off, wondering who you will meet tonight.

You wake to a warm, clawed hand stroking your spine, causing you to shiver as you blink your eyes open. The figure beside you has long dark hair, but he's not at all feminine — all broad shoulders and chiseled muscles and slim waist. You gaze up at him sleepily, examining his handsome face, and he smiles down at you. He brings a hand up to gently stroke your lower lip with his thumb.

"Pretty girl," he murmurs, leaning down so the tip of his nose brushes against yours. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

You nod, tilting your head to catch his lips… But he pulls away, just enough to run his nose down your throat. He doesn't kiss you, not yet. He just takes you in, eyes zeroing in on the three hickeys on your neck, all in various stages of healing.

He lets out a low, rumbling growl, the sound coming from deep in his chest. You look up at him, surprised to see him looking almost…feral. His teeth are bared, showing off his prominent canines, and his eyes are unfocused as he stares at the bruises there. His hand comes up to brush his fingertips against the hickeys, and then he presses his thumb down, hard. You hiss through your teeth, back arching in pain and pleasure.

"You're a naughty little thing, letting them mark you like this," he mutters, thumb digging into the mark from last night, letting the ache spread through your body.

"But tonight, you're mine.

"And I'm gonna teach you how good it feels to be mine."

He bites down on your throat, his fangs digging into your flesh until you gasp. Before you can push him off reflexively from the pain, he retracts his teeth from the mark and starts to suck instead. The suction of his mouth is harsh, hard enough to make your body bow off the bed once more. You let out a little whimper, but it doesn't stop him; he just laves his tongue across the forming mark. After a few more seconds, he finally lets go with a pop, and you feel the sting of the newly forming bruise.

He looks at it proudly, but there's a glint of something else in his eyes, like he's simply unsatisfied with leaving only one mark on you. He leans back in, licking a stripe up your neck before finding another sensitive spot and latching his lips there.

He bites down and starts to suck again.

You let out a small cry, writhing against him, and he grinds down into you just the same. It's clear how affected he is by you already, how hard he is against your thigh. He hums against your throat, sucking even harder this time as you buck against him.

He lets go, only to breathe, "Fuck, you're pretty. And all mine," before moving to another spot and marking you there, too.

He starts making his way down your neck, towards your shoulders, where he leaves an array of obvious marks along the slopes of your shoulders and the curves of your collarbones. Each mark feels like fire on your skin, and you can't hold back your moans as he continues down your chest towards your tits.

He kisses the fullness of your breast before leaving a hickey there, too. Then he trails his lips across your sternum, leaving an identical mark on the other side.

"All mine," he chants over and over into your skin. "Mine, mine, mine."

He sucks harshly on your nipple, making you cry out as pleasure arches your back once more. "Call my name," he tells you. "Say, 'Suguru, I'm yours.'"

So you do. "Suguru," you gasp his name, hands coming up to thread through his hair, "I'm yours."

A hum rumbles through his chest. "Good girl," he praises, sending heat between your legs. Then he starts kissing down your belly, marking you as he goes.

You're a painting of passion and ownership, red and purple marks scattered across your body as he makes his way lower. He pries apart your thighs, pushing them open, and your breath starts to pick up as you think he's going to put his mouth on you… But then he veers to the side and starts sucking hickeys into your inner thighs instead. Your hips jolt at his harsh treatment of your sensitive skin, but he just holds you down and continues his patient, almost obsessive work. He's methodical as he marks you, working his way down the inner line of your thigh towards your knee, then switches to the other leg, making his way back up towards your pussy.

You're already dripping wet for him.

He finally leans back to take in his work, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you gaze right back up at him through heavy lids. He smirks and runs a hand up your bruised thigh. "Say it again," he says. "Say my name."

"Suguru," you keen, nearly begging as you reach for him. "Please—"

He tuts, drawing back further so you can't touch him. You whine. His smirk just deepens. "Say you're mine, and I'll continue."

"I'm yours."

"Like you mean it, pretty."

You whine again, body writhing beneath him, desperate for stimulation. "I'm yours, Suguru! Please!"

"Much better." He leans back in, kissing you sloppily, all tongue and teeth and swapping spit. You moan into his mouth, relieved to be touching him again, and you let your fingers trail down his bare chest. You feel every ridge and dip of his muscles, lightly scraping your nails against them, and he groans into your mouth before pulling away enough to look at you.

"Say it," he begs, "one more time."

"Suguru, I'm yours."

He moans again before leaning back in for another kiss, this one more desperate than the last. As he kisses you, stroking his tongue against yours, he lets his hand trail down your body. He touches every single mark he left, until he reaches your inner thighs, and then he's knocking your knees to the side to open you back up.

He traces his fingertips through your slick, groaning when he feels how goddamn wet you are. "All this," he sighs into your mouth, "for me?"

And when you nod, he slowly starts pushing two thick fingers inside you, stretching you open.

You whimper into him, open-mouthed and panting, as he starts to stroke in and out of you. He adds the slightest curl to his movements, stroking your g-spot so beautifully that you can't help but sob in pleasure. He smiles against your mouth, then starts moving a little faster, a little harder, enough to make you cry out and break away from his lips. You gaze up at him, lips parted and brow creased, as he fucks you open with his fingers.

He kisses between your brows. "Want something, pretty?" he murmurs. You nod, whimpering again. "Tell me."

"Want you to fuck me," you whisper.

He chuckles quietly. "You sure? I'm not gonna be gentle." He leans in to whisper in your ear, "I'm gonna fuck you until this pretty cunt only wants me. Till I've imprinted myself on your body and mind. Till I'm all you want, even when the others come and try to take you from me."

You nod vehemently. "Please, Suguru, I want it."

He pulls his fingers from your pussy, bringing them up to his lips so he can suck them clean. He groans at the taste of you — sweet and heady — before he positions himself between your legs. "Tell me you're ready."

"I'm ready."

"Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours."

Then he starts slowly pushing inside you, letting you adjust momentarily to the stretch of him. You let out a strangled laugh. "I thought you weren't going to be— oh!"

Before you can finish your sentence, he's pulling his hips back and slamming back into you. His eyes are locked on the way your breasts jiggle at the force of his thrust, and he fucks into you with abandon, growling deep in his chest. "Fuck, pretty, feel so fucking good. So goddamn tight…and wet…Fuck, I'm so glad you're mine."

You just whine out his name, reaching up to dip your fingers into his hair again. He groans when you tug him down to meet you, his lips meeting yours once more as he continues to rail into you. His hips are unforgiving against yours, and his cock fills you so perfectly you're seeing stars. He repeatedly hits your g-spot, over and over and over again until you're a drooling mess, tugging his hair so hard his violet eyes start to water. But he just fucks you deeper, harder, letting you feel every inch of his aching cock.

You start to go cross-eyed with how well he's laying you out.

Pleasure starts to tighten in your gut, white-hot and furious, and you've never felt something quite like this before. Your back arches, and you put a hand on his hip, trying to stop him for a moment because you think you're going to combust with how good it feels. "S-Suguru," you choke out, but he doesn't stop; in fact, he simply pins you down and takes you even harder, forcing you towards an orgasm.

"Come on, pretty," he pants, "cum for me."

You can't fight it any longer, and he's sure not stopping, so you have no choice but to give it to him. You cum so hard your entire body convulses, seizes, and all of a sudden you feel a gush of heat erupt from within you. The wet sounds of him fucking you intensify, and he groans loudly, looking down between your legs.

"Fuck," he breathes, "you just fucking squirted, pretty girl."

You flush in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry," you stammer shyly, trying to turn your face away from his gaze. He reaches up and catches your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He looks exhilarated, not at all turned off by what just happened. His pupils are blown wide, and he's smiling softly at you as his thrusts slow to a stop. "Has anyone ever made you do that before?" he asks.

You shake your head, cheeks still burning. That just makes him grin wider. "Good," he says. "Then that means you truly are mine. Let's see if you can do it again." And he starts up his brutal pace once more, slamming into you with more focused precision.

You cry out, head thrown back as he fucks you just like he had before. He pushes your thighs further apart, aiming directly for your g-spot now.

It's not long before you're clamping down around him with another flash of white. You soak his pelvis and lower abdomen, and he curses again as his rhythm starts to grow uneven.

"Not gonna last," he grits through his teeth, his pace picking up as he chases his own high. "You feel too fucking good."

You claw at his shoulders, tugging his body close to yours so you can feel every movement. "Give it to me," you beg, and he just groans again before moving even faster, the slick sounds obscene in your bedroom.

And when he cums, he plugs you full of it, ribbons of hot, hellish semen spurting inside your fluttering cunt.

His chest heaves with exertion, but he doesn't back off. Instead he hauls your legs over his shoulders and leans in, folding you into a mean mating press. You cry out at the change in position, hands moving from his shoulders to his long tresses. Your mouth falls open, and he growls before leaning in and claiming your lips with his. When he pulls away, he's panting again.

"Gonna breed you, pretty girl," he says, grunting as he fucks you harder, pushing your knees towards your ears. "Gonna leave a mark on your body no one can deny."

You feel a thrill of fear — or is that arousal? — light up your chest at his words. You feel him twitch inside your cunt, already close to spilling inside you once more.

"Don't waste a drop," he pants. "Not a fucking drop."

You nod deliriously, whimpering as he slams his hips into yours repeatedly. His hand moves down to circle your clit, forcing you towards one more orgasm before he cums inside you again.

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours. He keeps you full, even as his cock softens inside you, until he's sure you haven't wasted what he's given you.

He slowly pulls out, moving gingerly as you twitch with overstimulation. Then he rolls off of you to lie on his back, tugging you towards him until your head rests against his thundering heart.

"All…all mine," he pants, his clawed hand resuming the gentle rhythm he woke you up with. And that rhythm lulls you to sleep beside him, spent and wrung out from everything he gave you.

Chapter Text

You awaken to the sound of clinking glass, confused by the smell of fresh fruits and wines in your bedroom. You've grown accustomed to waking up next to someone, to them touching you, to joining you in bed, so you're a little confused when you wake up and the other side of the bed is empty.

You look around to find a tall blond demon standing at a bar cart, pouring rich red wine into two crystal glasses. Hazel eyes flicker up to meet yours, and the demon softly smiles at you.

He gestures towards the wine glasses. "I thought you might be thirsty," he says.

You blink up at him. He's no less beautiful than the previous demons — with sharp cheekbones and gentle eyes and long horns that curve up at the tip — but he is much less…forward. He's dressed in a black silk robe, open at the chest to show off the curl of his collarbones, the stretch between his pecs. But he's not looking to seduce you as immediately as the others have. Instead, he walks over and helps you sit up against the headboard, propping up pillows behind your back. Then he offers you a glass of wine, and you take it.

"I have fruits and chocolates," he says, his voice low and soothing. "Would you like any?"

You nod. Not necessarily because you're hungry, or in dire need of a snack, but because you can't help but want him to take care of you like this. You watch him return to the bar cart, materializing a batch of strawberries from the lower shelf.

You sip at the glass of wine he offered you. It's sweet and decadent, and when you swallow, heat almost immediately starts to pool deep in your belly. You watch him bring over the strawberries, presented on a silver platter, and pick one up between his long fingers.

He brings the fruit up to your lips. "Open," he says, and it's not a command; it's an invitation.

You slowly part your lips, watching him, and he slides the strawberry between them. The sweet berry settles against your tongue, and his eyes come up to meet yours as you bite down, letting the juice spill within your mouth. The tips of his fingers brush against your lips, his claws retracted, and you shiver at the touch.

He keeps intimate eye contact as you chew, as you swallow, as you lick your lips afterward. Your tongue very lightly brushes his fingertips, and you watch his pupils dilate.

He clears his throat and pulls his hand away from your face. "My name is Kento," he murmurs. "I'm sorry if the others haven't taken the time to introduce themselves. They can be very eager."

You smile and tell him your name. Though you haven't minded the fast-paced nights of the past few days, you do enjoy having him take the time to let you know him before he touches you. He brings another strawberry to your mouth, watching your lips wrap around it with the sort of focus that tells you he's thinking about something much more erotic than fruit.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, and then he's slowly leaning in, giving you enough time to pull away if you want to. But you just close your eyes, tilting your chin up, and his lips meet yours. He tastes the strawberries and wine on your tongue, and he lets out a low hum.

He pulls away before your kiss can grow more passionate. He whispers, "I have a lot planned for you. I don't want this to go so quickly that you can't enjoy it." Then he retreats to the bar cart, pouring another glass of wine for himself.

You watch as he does. You watch the way the sleeves of his robe slide up, revealing his muscular forearms with a light dusting of blond hair. You watch the way his lashes nearly brush his chiseled cheekbones as he looks down at the wine glass. You watch the way his hands so elegantly hold the bottle, the way his fingers cradle the crystal glass.

You watch him return to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed once more. He takes a sip of his wine, taking in the sight of you — naked and propped up on your pillows, a blanket thrown over your lap.

He leans in, gently running his lips over the edge of your jaw. You let your eyes close and your head tip back, a sigh escaping as you revel in the sensation. When he reaches your ear, he lightly takes the lobe between his teeth, tugging lightly before he whispers, "Can I do something?"

You nod and breathe, "Anything," because it's true. Anything he does to you, for you, you'd be happy with.

He kisses his way back down your jaw, down your throat, and his hand comes to the back of your head, tangling in your hair to tip your head back even further. He reaches your shoulder, the hollow where your collarbone forms a natural slope, and he kisses your collarbone before pulling away just enough to pour a small amount of wine into the hollow there.

You shiver as the chilled liquid settles against your body. A single drop rolls down the curve of your chest, and he leans down, running the flat of his long tongue along your breast to lick it up. Then he drinks the wine from the curve of your collarbone, and the fiery heat of his mouth against your skin makes you shudder again.

He lets out a quiet groan at the taste of your skin mixing with the intoxicating flavor of the wine. He licks up every drop, and then he's pulling back to look at you again, eyes intense as he says, "You taste so good. Can I taste more of you?"

And you, drunk on him and the wine, nod.

He helps you adjust on the bed, laying you back with your head comfortably rested on the pillows. Then he reaches back over to the bar cart for a bowl. Inside it is a thick dark chocolate syrup, which he starts to spoon across your chest and belly. It's warm, every dribble sending heat through your body and to your core. Once he's done painting you with warm, sticky chocolate, he puts his hands on either side of your hips and leans down to start licking it off of you.

His tongue is slow and sensual, tasting rather than just cleaning you up. He groans again, blond lashes fluttering as his eyes fall closed. Syrup starts to drip down the curve of your body, warm and sticky. The heat of it tingles along your skin, making you feel extra sensitive as his tongue chases the warmth and soothes it. Every touch, every stroke of his tongue, awakens something new inside you, something soft and gentle and receptive.

Something to be cared for, to be treasured, to be worshiped.

His tongue moves lower and lower, following the drops of chocolate down the curve of your waist, the dip of your hipbones. You shiver, and his eyes flicker up to your face, making sure you're still enjoying yourself.

You give a small, barely perceptible nod. Oh, you are.

He places a spoonful of syrup on your pubic bone, the heat seeping beneath your skin as it dribbles along the slope of your pelvis. Then he reaches to the cart once more and places a dollop of cool whipped cream on top of the chocolate, like you're the sweetest treat he's ever seen. The sudden chill, mixed with the warmth of the syrup, makes your back arch slightly off the bed. He hums at the sight, then leans in and licks the sweet mixture off of your mound, tongue dangerously close to where you're wet and waiting.

He veers off to the side, continuing to lap at the chocolate instead of you. You let out a soft whine of impatience, but he just soothes you with a hand on your waist.

"I'll get there, sweetheart," he promises gently. "Just give me time."

So you do. You give him time, and he makes good on his promise.

When he licks up the last drop of syrup and cream, he finally settles between your spread thighs, his large hand kneading the flesh there. He looks up at you, hazel eyes soft and warm. "Can I taste you properly now?" he asks.

You nod, and he smiles up at you. Then he reaches down and spreads his fingers into a 'V,' getting a good look at your beautiful, aching pussy before he leans in and licks a broad stripe between your lower lips. He groans at the sweetness of your cunt, and his clawed fingers dig into your thighs to keep you open as he feasts on you.

He devours you like he's starving, like you're the last meal he'll ever get. He flays you open and explores every inch he can, finding out what makes you respond the most and repeating the motion over and over again. He circles your clit with fine precision, gazing up at you with a drunken expression, like it's not just the wine that has him intoxicated.

It's you.

As he slowly and passionately works you towards an orgasm, his hands come away to tug at the tie of his robe. The silk easily falls away from his broad shoulders, and then he's naked above you, his cock hard and drooling against the mattress as he revels in the taste of you.

He groans when you cum in his mouth, clenching and writhing beneath his touch. He licks you clean, and then he pulls away just enough for his long tongue to clean your slick from his lips and chin.

He moves up your body until his forearms rest beside your head, caging you in beneath his broad form. His body presses against yours, sticking to the residue of the syrup all over your skin. He reaches down with one hand, guiding his cock towards your cunt. He gathers your slick along the blunt head, then slowly pushes inside you, resting his forehead against yours as he groans softly. You moan as he thrusts inside, a long, drawn-out sound until he bottoms out. Then you're both panting, sharing each other's breath as he gazes down at you.

"Can I move?" he asks.

You nod, dazed and complacent. He draws his hips back, then starts stroking into you, setting a gentle but passionate pace. At the end of each thrust, he presses a kiss to your cheeks, your neck, your lips. Every touch is tender, almost loving, and you can't get enough as he fucks you.

Your hands come up to his hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp. He groans again, his chest vibrating against yours, and he drops his head to your shoulder. "God, sweetheart," he whispers. "You'll be my undoing."

You moan as he picks up the pace, his hips slapping against yours with the lewd sounds of skin on sticky skin. Your head falls back as your body arches into his, and his hand strokes up and down your sides, equal parts soothing and arousing. Then his touch trails down between your legs, rubbing perfect circles on your clit that have your eyes rolling back.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he breathes, and like he commanded it, you do. Your cunt clenches around him, and he moans into the crook of your shoulder, his hips stuttering before he pulls out, reaching down to jerk his cock. He spills molten heat across your lower abdomen, his chest heaving as he cums.

Then he leans down to lick it all up, tasting the mixture of him, you, and the leftover sweetness from the chocolate.

You shift beneath him; you feel sticky all over and exhausted from the sex. When he leans down to touch you again, you think that he's going to continue fucking you, just as the others have before him. But instead of spreading your thighs and taking you all over again, he gently hauls you up in his preternaturally strong arms and starts to carry you towards the bathroom.

"I'll clean you up, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Don't worry."

He starts up the shower, letting the water warm up before he gently sets you down on your feet. He washes you up with soap that smells like him, cleaning off the stickiness from the syrup. His large hands are gentle on your body, and even as they trail lower towards your inner thighs, his touch is soothing rather than arousing.

Then he kneels on the cold shower floor, bowed at the altar of your body, and gingerly encourages you to hook your knee over his shoulder. "Let me take care of you," he murmurs, and then he's licking at your cunt once more.

Your head falls back against the tile wall, your lips falling open with a soft moan. Your fingers curl lightly into his hair, and he hums into your pussy before nudging closer. He takes his time, tasting you one more time, before you cum on his tongue and sag against the wall.

He catches you, slowly rising back to his feet. He strokes your cheek, his thumb rubbing your skin. "Good girl, sweetheart," he praises. And then he's guiding you back to bed, even as your knees shake and your lids grow heavy.

He curls up with you in bed, gently stroking your back and leaving little kisses along your face and neck as you drift off to sleep.

And for the first time all week, you feel utterly safe and cared for in his arms.