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baepsays · 1 day ago

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I'd give you everything, I just want to see you win ⸻ clan head Gojo

chapter summary ⸻ Gojo Satoru is absolutely going through it. His head and his heart are not quite working in his favor, while his wife is having a hard time not understanding certain feelings of her own.

pairing ⸻ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

chapter warnings ⸻ canon divergence, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, slow burn, yearning, fem-oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, emotionally constipated Gojo, heavy tension, mild progress in their relationship, and they are both bad at feelings.

you can also find this series on AO3. make sure to also check out the playlist

a/n: art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt. Progress! also sorry about being so late

word count: 4.1k

SERIES MASTERLIST ‖ <<PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!

chapter four: The Library

During the first few days after Gojo Satoru got married, he did not go outside the estate. Even when you two were not on the best speaking terms, even when you were not talking to him, he still did not want to leave you alone at the estate. Why? He cannot really answer that, not because he doesn't want to, but because he doesn't know how to answer that question.

The first day after getting married, he saw his colleagues and friends; you two were still sort of not speaking. Yet still, that morning, when he was getting ready and putting on his shirt, you came up to him, fixed his collar, and handed him his blindfold. In return, all he said was a simple thank you, and you nodded slightly and walked out of the room.

It was an innocent and simple interaction.

And yet Gojo Satoru had this huge grin on his face the entire day. Not his usual one, which is why his friends were quick to notice that smile.

“Why are you smiling like a pervert?” Suguru had grimaced and questioned him. Shoko and Nanami just quietly peered in without joining the conversation; they knew better.

“I am just smiling!? What's the big deal?” Satoru had tried to defend himself, but it did not help his case that even then his smile remained on his face and his cheeks just got more rosy.

“Ahhh, your wife finally looked your way?” Suguru had smirked and leaned back in his seat; he could see the little panicky movements of Satoru's eyes, and when Satoru did not answer him, the teasing just got worse. And it persisted through the entire day.

And yet, Satoru's smile remained intact on his face.

Since Satoru got you the camellia plant, it was nice to finally be on good terms with you.

It has been peaceful breakfasts and routine afternoon calls about dinner; on lucky days when he is not nagged to get off his phone by his colleagues, he gets to ask you about your day and plans. He gets to frequently accompany you to the greenhouses, only to watch you take care of the plants there and to have tea with you. After dinner, he gets to sit under the now naked cherry blossom tree with you, on the same bench, where you stare at the lake, and he just stares at you. He even goes on walks with you and takes you to parts of the garden he finds the most beautiful. And since he gave you a full tour of the estate, especially that coveted library you were the most fascinated to discover, it has become his routine to go find you cooped up in there at the end of the day. Because Gojo Satoru has developed a habit—no, a need—to see his wife’s face as desperately as he needs to satiate his mochi cravings. Both of which are concerning in terms of the degree of intensity, but to say the least, things have been good.

Yet, he just always finds himself wanting a little more.

Gojo Satoru never took himself for a greedy man. In fact, any person with keen observation skills would be able to say he is self-sacrificial to a fault. So, these days, as a happily married man, when Gojo Satoru finds his eyes lingering on his wife a little too often and a little too long, when his mind starts racing with things he cannot really say, and his chest gets heavy with unfathomable and unknown amounts of affection for her—he finds himself in a bind.

And this has been a source of constant agony for him. This sense of longing that has started to seep into him is starting to haze up his better judgment. And despite initially just needing a wife just to hold the title of Mrs. Gojo to make things easier for him, his needs are starting to warp.

Knock knock.

The unanticipated knocks at his office door made him sit up in his seat. Assuming Ichiji was here to yet again pester him about some clan stuff or some school stuff he needed to sign off on, but when the door did not fully open to reveal Ichiji, his eyebrows furrowed at the slight opening of the door. And just as he was about to reprimand Ichiji for wasting his time, instead the door opened fully to reveal the source of his agonizing and confusing thought, the person who's had his chest feeling heavy with something other than grief and burden for once in his life.

You sheepishly showed up behind his office door. “I'm not disturbing you, right?”

Satoru sat up in his chair a little frazzled and taken aback by your sudden arrival. And without noticing it himself, he pulled his blindfold over his head as you stood smiling in his doorway. “You can never disturb me, what!? In fact, you are saving me from all of this boring paperwork.”

It is not that you never come to his office. It is usually that you are either accompanied by Mia or Suki, so it was a sudden and pleasant surprise to see you all by yourself standing in his office. You giggled at his little ramble and walked in, while Satoru quickly gathered all the sprawled and scattered papers on his desk. When you ended up beside his chair, just an arm's length away from his reach, he could have just as easily put up his arms, and you would have been in his grasp.

So close. So, so close.

“Can I take you away from all of this for a bit?” Your eyes flickered around his office, feeling a little out of place all of a sudden. And Satoru could immediately notice that.

“Of course! I am all yours.” He finally stretched his arms out and pulled you towards where he was sitting. “You can do whatever you please, whenever you please...” His hands grasped yours. Though you made no effort to move them, your fingers tangled with his, and something akin to electricity ran from his arms down his spine, something he has never felt, given Gojo Satoru is not familiar with physical touch. Which makes this more concerning.

Sure, he flashed his signature, flirty smile at you. But without his blindfold, his eyes were bare and vulnerable. So he could not dare to look you in the eye even when his hands pulled you in closer. Something about the weight of the words that effortlessly left his mouth, the silence in the office, and the embarrassment that clearly crept up to your face—it was making the air in the office heavier and heavier.

“That is—” He started, and you also spoke simultaneously, “What I meant—” Both of your words stumbled on each other and left an awkward pause hanging.

“You go first!” “You go first—” Comically, the both of you spoke the same thing, trying to seem polite towards the other and just get rid of the anchor-heavy air around you two.

You mustered up the courage; seeing Gojo slowly become pink, you spoke out. “I—I wanted to ask you if you want to accompany me to the library. You have been in here since the morning and I thought…” You trailed off, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I mean, of course you are free to decline! I would not want to disturb you and we just had lunch so—”

“I would love to.” He said, sounding confident in his decision.

While on the way to the library, which Satoru himself had introduced you to, he felt nervous. He remembers vividly how you looked when he first showed you the place. Your face morphed from awe to absolute ecstasy in mere seconds. He also remembers how you eagerly asked him if you could borrow books from here, to which all he said was, “This is also your property; do as you please.”

It was the very first time you did not interject the thought of being equal to him.

“I know I asked you to accompany me to get you out of your office, but I also needed a favor.” You said sheepishly as you both entered the library. Satoru tilted his head slightly while aimlessly following behind you.

“Hmm? What is it?” He said, sounding curious and having no hesitation to genuinely fulfill any request of yours to the best of his abilities.

“Um, the stool that's usually in here, I use it quite frequently.” You pause before continuing to reveal your request. “It's not here. It's usually here! And I swear I looked everywhere! But it's not here…so…”

Even though it was obvious what you wanted to ask him, you looked obviously hesitant to ask. The grin that found its way to his mouth indicated that even the clanhead knew what favor you wanted to ask of him.

“So…?”

“so…”

“Mmhmm, I'm listening.” Though it sounded like Satoru was mocking you, the suggestion of a question in his tone and the grin on his face said otherwise.

He was simply teasing you. It wasn't that he was being condescending, annoyed, or belittling you—he just wanted you to properly ask him for this very obvious favor that you wanted from your husband.

“Can you, uh—help me out then?” This is not fair by any means. Why is it that Gojo Satoru is the one basically teasing you, and yet he is the one getting shy over how sweet your voice sounds asking for his help?

Call him perverted, deprived, or smitten—he knows that if it was anyone else in your place, he would not even bother with the time of his day to spare them a glance. And yet here he is following behind his wife like a puppy on a leash, ready to do any trick for whatever treat you may throw his way.

“How would you like me to help you?” The frustration on your face was more amusing than any paperwork he was wasting his afternoon on.

“If you can, can you take out a few books off the high shelves for me?” Your voice got lower with each word, and Satoru could barely hold back the smile he was holding back, for your sake, really. He has embarrassed you enough for his own fun, really.

“So you want me to become your personal book picker?” He leaned forward towards you, almost inches apart.

“Do you answer every question with more questions?” Usually you lean backwards when he does something like this, but this time you did not back away. He definitely took a note of that.

“Just yours.” A scoffing laugh left him as he said that, and his eyes softened more than usual.

“Are you going to help me or just keep teasing me?” You also took a note of that.

“Anything for you!” he said as he started walking towards one of the shelves by the wall behind you. “Alrighty! Which books do you need me to get for you?” He clapped his hands together and turned around to look at you after asking you the question.

“Oh, actually, I need you to get one of the books from the shelf on the left wall on the topmost shelf.” You pointed at the particular book in a brown leather binding, like many on the shelf, where you mentioned its whereabouts.

“and then I need you to get me that green book with golden borders on the shelf opposite to that on the leftmost second shelf and then—”

“Okay, I'll get it one at a time. Please, I might just be a lowly book picker, but I'm still human.” Satoru chuckled as he walked towards the first shelf you mentioned. And with ease, he barely lifted his arm up to reach the book, as the sleeves of his yukata gathered and fell down to his shoulder, while he took out the book from the topmost shelf.

You couldn't figure out whether the time was just moving slowly or whether it was just his muscles flexing from lifting it upwards to just grab a book. In the few minutes that he grabbed the book, lowered down his arm, and then stretched it towards you to give you the book that you wanted—it felt like an hour had passed by.

Who knew Gojo Satoru was that toned under all those layers of robes, shirts, and jackets he usually wears? Well, you already knew that, and whenever you are reminded of that fact about your husband, something in your head goes haywire. It was bad enough with just his pretty face, gorgeous blue eyes, sweet words, and fluttering bangs that get caught in the brazen chill wind of the night when you two go out for a walk.

This very physical and very muscular part of him always made things worse.

Somehow it feels as though this started from this one event that has started to occur daily in front of your eyes. It is how every morning his hair clings to his forehead when he comes out of the bathroom freshly showered. His skin looks radiant, and even all the smallest scars on his body look vividly clear to your eyes, which makes that one specifically big scar stretching over his torso, which hurts to even look at, seem glorious. With a cloud of dreamy steam radiating off of him, either from the hot water he uses every morning to shower or just the sheer mystique of his existence, nothing or no one can compare to his magnificence.

Every morning you witness that scene right after waking up, like a slap to your face for a wake-up call. And every morning you rustle under the sheets of your shared bed trying to not ogle him like a piece of meat. All he does is offer you the most innocent smile while drying off his hair and walking towards the closet and a ‘good morning’ in an almost bored or relaxed voice. Which one is it? That you have not figured out yet.

You clutched onto the brown leather-bound book close to your chest as you looked at your husband working around the library and getting you all the books that you asked him to grab for you.

“Last one!” Satoru cheered and grabbed a book with a black cover, covered in more dust than the other books.

And in a few moments you had a stack of books on the study table by the large windows where you usually spend your afternoons after you are done with your chores and duties.

“Last one.” You smiled and grabbed the book as he handed it to you. During the exchange, your hand brushes against his fingertips, and they feel cold to the touch.

It wasn't the usual kind of cold that you have felt on him when you have brushed against him accidentally and his skin grazed yours; it was a different kind of chill. It felt more alive, more of his skin, than the barrier that he usually puts up between himself and the rest of the world.

And it came down as an epiphany to you that lately this is just how he felt.

There have been many instances where his skin has touched yours; you two share a home, share a name, and share a bed for god's sake, so it comes with the experience of being Mrs. Gojo. And it has been so normal, simply nothing remarkable enough to remember; it was habitual and available enough that you usually forget in a matter of a few minutes what those simple touches feel like.

It means all those times that you passed him the glass of water, or handed him his blindfold, or accidentally brushed against his shoulders in your sleep—what you felt was all him. It has always been the same sort of coolness on the surface of his skin that you momentarily just felt right now, all along. And it never meant anything; it shouldn't have, and it shouldn't matter now either, and yet it does.

It does, because you still see a glimpse of pain and fear in his eyes when he looks at you, not like you are some undefeatable monster; that is not something the strongest would fret over, it is something deeper, something inexplicable and something he could not properly explain to you. So, you dropped it.

He has shown great effort by stretching out a hand of kindness and generosity towards you, things you've never really felt in the company of your own family. He has given it all to you, so it was easy to let him have this one unanswered question. You made yourself forget everything about that night at the lake, because what mattered more were these little moments like this. Moments where he sits beside you on the floor and cluelessly stares at you as you look through all the books to check if they are the correct ones you wanted to pick out.

“All good?”

Satoru’s question brought you out of your daze, and instead of the slow movements of your fingers, flipping open each book with dull movements, they scrambled to open the last book for inspection. Your fingers picked up a haphazard pace to quickly end your inspection and give him an answer. But the guilt of letting unnecessary thoughts wander into your mind and careless movements of your fingers resulted in the index finger of your right hand bleeding from a papercut.

It wasn't a lot of blood, but it still amused me, as it always does, how something like paper can draw blood so easily while being so susceptible to fatality by just some water. How a book that has been unopened for years, with its obviously intact spine and pristine edges on each page, can be so vengeful.

“Fuck! Let me see that!” As soon as a few droplets of blood gathered on your finger, Satoru’s hands, as if automatically in a panic, reached for yours.

You sat beside him on the floor, with no sense of emergency but this sense of stupor about being surrounded by a pile of books wanting to be read and one vengeful book among them with the tiniest amount of your blood on its page. While Satoru pulled your hand closer to his face to inspect it meticulously.

Next, what happened left you stunned, to say the least. As your husband leaned down and took your bleeding finger in his mouth. His lips felt warm, contrary to the tips of his fingers that brushed you earlier. He lightly sucked on the finger, and as his tongue came to lick away any trace of blood, a soft gasp left your mouth involuntarily. Satoru’s eyes instantly darted up towards your face, and as his eyes landed on yours, time truly felt like it slowed down again.

There is no explanation as to why you keep feeling such a shift in the metaphysical concept of time and reality. The way his breath fell on your lips, the way his hands held yours with such care, and his eyes fluttered softly as if in utter awe of your mere existence—it almost felt like the most natural thing in this world to be this close to this man. The proximity, in fact, felt too big; the gap was too large, and perhaps Satoru felt it too, as he started to slowly and hesitantly inch towards your lips. His eyes darted leisurely between your lips and your eyes; you felt the pull just as strongly.

In the soundless, serene silence of the library, all that could be heard were the heavy breaths of Lord and Lady Gojo.

It was inconsistent and erratic at times, his pace did not quite match yours, and yet you both felt the heavy stifling tension between you two that has been growing and growing like wild grass. And it felt delicate as such too. Fragile to the point it might just break with one wrong stroke of wind, yet neither of you wanted to stop decreasing the gap that lay between you.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. I forgot to put the stool back in its place after cleaning yesterday and—”

A staff member of the estate with the stool you usually use in the library in his hands stopped dead in his tracks just as fast as he barged into the room while rambling in a hurry.

You had leaned away just as soon as you heard the door open, forced to be pulled harshly out of the little moment you got laced into with your husband. But Satoru stayed where he was, inches away from your lips, but not anymore. Your hand was still softly in his grasp, and his face was turned towards yours. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the library surrounded by a pile of books, he did not look as though he snapped out of it as fast as you did.

“Oh—pardon me for interrupting you two. I—" The panic in the man’s voice was clear; he knew as he walked into this room, he should not be here.

“No no, we were—we were just discussing something! Tell him something!” Now you were panicking, thinking how the man and eventually the rest of the staff might start looking at you differently once the word of this gets out. When all you did was that you were just sitting close to your lawfully wedded husband.

“If you are done here, you can leave.” Satoru’s voice sounded irritated and dry. The kind of voice you have only ever heard him use with others, specifically certain members of the clan.

“Yes! Yes, Gojo-sama!”

After you two watched the poor man scramble away from the wrath of Gojo Satoru, who has been interrupted during his quality time with his wife. Because it was now a common consensus between the staff at the estate that they should never interrupt their master and ma’am when they are together. The silent agreement was drawn since last time a staff interrupted you two to ask you for more tea, and after that you never finished your little ramble about how Chef Suzuki taught you how to make a new dish. That lady was given the stink eye by Gojo-sama for the rest of the day and later put on laundry duty—something no one ever wanted to do.

“Come on, I’ll get Mia or Suki to clean up your cut properly.” Satoru stood up and stretched his arm towards you to grab onto his hand; his face looked flat, but anyone could feel the disappointment oozing off of him. Anyone but you.

“Oh, it fi—”

“If you say it’s fine, I will bandage it up myself, and just so you know, it will not look pretty.”

His mouth stretched into a lazy, teasing smile, but something told you it was definitely not a joke. And if he is going to get you bandaged for a paper cut, you would rather not have it looking like a mess.

“Only because you’re making me do this.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed onto his hand to be effortlessly pulled off the floor without having to use even a tiny bit of strength.

“Well, thank you very much for doing this.” Satoru nodded his head with mocking gratitude.

“Shut upppp.” You giggled as you shoved your shoulder into his arm as you two walked towards the door together, and he broke into a chuckle with you.

Somehow, with Satoru’s help, the initial awkwardness you thought would be weighing on you two was not there. But thinking about why that would have happened made you feel warm all over. It was a little dizzying, whatever it was that you felt back there, that kind of tension that you have never felt before. And even though a part of you wanted to explore all of it, the rest of you could not even let you acknowledge the feelings that stirred up within you. And all you could think of was this one question over and over in your head. And even if you subconsciously knew the answer to that question, you could not help yourself from just thinking about it mindlessly as if it were unanswerable.

What was that?

NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: divider by @/omi-resources. header is from watashitachi wa douka shiteiru drama. art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt.

lol i hope it makes sense. like ik yes they feel all that and yet they are like what is this lol wtf? You can say satoru is faster than his wife at accepting his feelings. but i would not say her feelings are as deep as his currently.

tag list (1): @wondeurland @slayzzz @madamechrissy @gojosperms @gojoao @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @littlemisswitch67 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @tabalugax @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thetiredcollegestudent @tokyolhtl @emochosoluvr @moncher-ire @hyunjinspdf @younjunie @em0cleo @novaisbebita @hisarmsaremycocoon @wise-fangirl @sheep-infog @arrozyfrijoles23 @ppejmurde @miizuzu @ricecake-mochi @tushkiiiiiii @ovela @69-gojos-wife-69 @lxxnour @mereniss @theorphicangel @gojosconsort @soupicidesquad

#i gotta say lore accurate 🙂‍↕️

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baepsays · 2 days ago

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cooking up a real Nanami oneshot because the thought of him being such a gentleman and having boundaries while being respectful makes me so wet

#—rayrambles

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baepsays · 2 days ago

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Atonement ⸻ preview.

description ⸻ The crown prince of the eastern nation, Gojo Satoru, has to go to war, leaving behind someone far more precious than his own life and nation. He only wishes that in this lifetime, he could have been more truthful beyond his letters.

pairing ⸻ crown prince satoru gojo x noble reader

cw ⸻ NSFW, MDNI, historical au, canon Gojo, undefined era, kind of old-ish classic literature-esque wording, war, politics, empirical hierarchy, eurocentric setting (?), yearning, so much of just covert misogyny, more angst less comfort, miscommunication, emotional constipation, cheating, major character death, obsessions, fem reader, she/her pronouns, (p in v) intercourse, pregnancy & childbirth, bad parenting, alcoholism, suicidal tendencies, avoidance and themes of mental illnesses.

a/n: Do not get excited, I am only 16k in. There is about 10k more to write.

Growing up, you found your greatest confidant in the eastern nation’s crown prince.

As your family were nobles closest to the crown, as their most trusted advisors and friends, no one ever wondered why. Why was it that the crown prince was never allowed to go outside of the palace or permitted to have friends as easily as his peers but was granted the permission to play all day long with a little girl half his age?

You were only four years of age when you met the eight-year-old prince. It was a bright summer day, and you found yourself walking towards a garden of well-groomed grass, shrubs, and flowers, where sat the emperor, the empress, and the prince, surrounded by guards. Your eyes got stuck on the prince just as you clearly saw him—and he looked and seemed as infallible, illuminating, opulent, and regal as everyone proclaimed, as your parents affirmed. You were nudged forward by your father to curtsy adequately—elegance and politeness must be instilled young, he always said—to the ones with the crown, and you, in your little pink and pastel blue dress, did your utmost to abide. Earning chuckles and a nook in the hearts of the emperor and the empress.

The prince, however, scoffed at your messy appearance, curious eyes, and rapid blinking in his direction.

That is how you grew up—following behind Prince Satoru's trail like a little nuisance—simply tolerated for having won over his parents. When your parents run a country, even a centimeter in their heart equates to acres of land, though one might disagree. Therefore Satoru—with much acquiescence—was obliged to take great notice of who they deemed eligible for such occupancy. So everyone always assumed that the crown prince was simply obedient to the rulers.

It was quite predictable. That you'd be the one to marry Gojo Satoru. Everyone knew and believed that to be the truth. Even when at the age of fourteen he pushed you in a puddle, or when at the age of seventeen he snuck out of the place with you following near after him, and then he left you behind at the market. Or when at the age of eighteen he had his first kiss—though it was not you. It was a princess of a neighboring country, visiting on diplomatic grounds—closer to him by age. While you were a mere fourteen-year-old, obviously in love. They still instilled unwavering belief in your inevitable fate. Even when you had freshly turned eighteen and he was twenty-two, when he asked for your hand for a dance at your birthday ball and you refused him to instead dance with another man, people still did not question their predictions.

Whether this union was conceived out of obligation, mere familiarity, or affiliation need not matter.

So it came out as quite the surprise for everybody, inside and outside the palace, noble or commoner, that at twenty years of age, you were to be wed to Prince Nanami—not to Crown Prince Gojo. It came out especially as a surprise to those who saw you two frolicking in the royal gardens, gathering around a hydrangea bush, watching a ladybug swallow down a soft, little, helpless bug. You had seen it and said how ‘pretty’ it looked.

“You think it is pretty!? It is eating away at that poor thing!” Satoru exclaimed. As if you made the most outrageous claim!.

“But it is only the course of nature; if the ladybug does not eat them, they'll destroy the plants! It is the inevitability of life.” For once, eleven-year-old Satoru peered at you with something akin to respect that day.

“I shall call you Ladybug from now on then.” He had softly said while looking at you.

“Because I'm strong and pretty?” You had tilted your head and given him a big grin.

“No. Because you chew away at my brain similarly as such.” He had said, with a tint of rosy pink creeping up on his neck, walking away from the hydrangea bush and you.

Everyone was surprised and taken aback, including the nobility, the neighboring nations, and even the peasants. But it did not come out as some big news to the prince. He knew what he had reaped, and karma had given him the bitter fruit of his deeds. Gojo Satoru may be the crown prince of the vast lands of the eastern nation, but he did not know how to equate his emotions with his gestures. That fact alone unfortunately came to bite him back ultimately today.

The years of running away from you, from the tightness he felt in his chest in your presence, and how his eyes always wandered off in your direction—it all summed up to this moment, where his actions are reflecting the consequences he shall bear for life. Actions that have caused you immense hurt over the many years he has observed you from a distance growing into the gorgeous woman you are now. And now that things have progressed so far out of his control, he is left incapacitated to take back his rightful place beside you, the only coveted chair he desired more than the throne to the empire—which he took for granted. And that is his sin.

So he must atone.

He wrote about twenty-one letters addressed to you that night. As he was required to, as the crown prince, the commander-in-chief, and your friend—who wouldn't be able to attend your wedding physically. Instead, he shall send his blessings. He wrote over the letters and left blots of ink, crossed them out, crumpled up the papers, banged his fist on the desk, and even leaned back in his chair and let his tears flow. At the end, only one conveyed what he truly wanted to say. But it wasn't the letter he intended to send.

Once he finished writing the entire thing in one sitting, without having to stop himself once to gather his thoughts—all he could do was maniacally laugh at his own words as though they were so ridiculous and blasphemous it was incomprehensible. Or perhaps the sheer and crude reality finally staring back at him in his own writing was what finally broke the illusion of his deterrence defense. The twentieth letter contained words plucked right out of his shut mouth and reflected his soul.

To my dearest ladybug,

I am writing to you with intentions, neither pure nor royal. I am writing to you selfishly, not as your crown prince nor as the commander-in-chief of the nation’s army soon to be at war with the southern nation. I am being selfish and asking you to undo the self-sacrificial service you've shouldered upon yourself in the reigning monarchy’s name, the civilians’ names, and this nation's name. I cannot place you on the chessboard of war to find an alliance with the western nation. I may be abhorrent, rambunctious, crude, and filthy at times even, but I too have my dignity. And over that, I hold your dignity as though it were more precious. So precious that I cannot sell it to Prince Nanami in exchange for arms and men. Your price cannot equate to no numerals nor materials. But more importantly and earnestly, I am asking this ‘favor’ out of my pure selfish desires. My sweet ladybug, my sweet hymns of the harp at the holy chapel, you must be aware how deep my affections run for you—thus, I cannot give you up to another man for my nation. I shall give up my rightful inheritance of the throne, my name, my crown, and my life, but I cannot give you up. Every inch of your skin, every fiber, is mine; it is meant for me. Every falling hair off your body has my name engraved on it, and every breath you take is for my sake. It is my right to have you all to myself, selfishly and profoundly.

That dress you wore to that damned dinner when this proposition was brought up, the azure satin that fell softly as though a petal on your curves, had me enchanted. I had wanted nothing more than to drag you out of that room full of people, in front of our familiars and family. I wanted each individual to watch your hand entangle with mine as I snatched you away. To then find any place, appropriate or not, if we could not have reached my bedroom in time, which I'm sure we could not have—I am simply too impatient when it comes to you, my ladybug—it may have been the hallways, the sitting room, the pianoforte, or the library. It simply would not have mattered. I would have slammed you against the closest wall, torn that flimsy lace—which tried to hold the fabric of your dress with substantial difficulty—covering nothing of your sensual back, and slipped said dress off of you as though you were truly a siren emerging out of the ocean that surrounds our nation.

Now, what I may write further may sound crude, but that is who I am when it comes to you—a crude, miscalculating, fumbling lunatic. I would have had you where you belonged. Between my arms, pressed against the walls, holding onto me with barely any strength, as I would've done the heavy lifting of holding your legs tightly bound around my hips. And I would've kissed you as deeply, lovingly, and lustfully as I've always wanted to whenever you are in my near proximity. That sweet cunt of yours would've been drooling to have me inside of you, to stretch your walls to fit perfectly around my throbbing cock, all for you. I would've molded you perfectly in memory of my shape, so you would be empty in my absence. And I would've filled you up in the meantime so you would not feel as such. I would've filled your womb with my seed until you were bred well to carry the next Gojo. The next in line to the throne after me has to be our blood. If that child shall not bear your blood with mine, I shall not give that throne the right to brace any more rulers. It shall be blasphemy otherwise. You have always had me right in the palm of your hands, bewitched, despite what others may have to say or what you may think. I treated you imprudently in our childhood, and not a second goes by where I do not find myself wanting to rectify those previous foolishnesses. That day when you came up to me to take off that eyelash sitting on my cheek, I had to push you off; it burned and electrified the blood that ran in my veins to merely have your fingertips graze my skin. Or when you held my hand in that busy market, I had to run; I did not know any better. You blazed my soul in mysterious flames of desire and enchantment. Or when I kissed that princess in the gardens, it was neither my wish nor my first kiss. I kissed her out of spite in the zeal of my adolescent blood, and years of dejection I had built up broke my sanity as you had left me behind to converse with Suguru on matters of philosophy.

And you must know, I've stolen at least millions of kisses from you when you have been in your most defenseless moments. The very first time I ever grazed your sweet lips, I would have had to have been twelve; you were merely eight. I still remember that listless spring afternoon when you tired yourself out after running through the flower fields and took repose with your head on my lap, under that willow tree by the lake. Everything happened by its own accord, as if it were inevitable, as if it were as simple as the bees bumbling over the spring blooms; my lips found yours. I have threatened men who've dared to turn in your direction, let alone put their filthy sight on you, as I am crude, abhorrent, and not above violence.

I also threatened that man, the son of that merchant, to never return to our nation, all for dancing with you at your eighteenth birthday ball. How could I not? You finally became a lady; my mother threw you the most extravagant ball. I had tailored for myself a new suit that looked identical to the one you once told me made my eyes look brighter, and I was denied my right to hold you tightly pressed against my body. To hold you in front of a room full of people who mattered no significance to me, but they only needed to know who owned me. As I would have led you around on that marble floor as practice for our wedding, which I've repeatedly played in my head to the point I could recite the event to you from beginning to end with ease. I dream of our first night together. I often dream of how perfectly your breasts will feel in my hands and how your waist will feel at home under my touch. And I dream of what lies between your legs. I must confess, my sweetheart, I've seen ladies bare; the higher society might even call me a rake, but I am a mere pathetic fool in love whose affections are unreciprocated, whose reputation follows him from when he was a young simpleton who thought the hole you carved in his heart could be filled with just about any person. And yet with all of this experience, the mere sight of nothing more than your bare shoulders and back drives me into insanity.

Because I know your cunt is where I'll find home. That pretty cunt of yours must be akin to an orchid found only in rainforests far west, drenched in droplets falling off the clouds and shaped so erotically that one look alone must be lethal. I simply know that to be the solemn truth. Therefore, everyone is greatly mistaken about the factual reality of us, that you are the oblivious and helpless critter trailing behind me, but it is I who am being led on a leash by you. Your mere existence is an anomaly for my cognition, but it is also the finishing piece of my puzzling mind. You are the sole reason why I open my eyes each morning, and then I take out that handkerchief you gave me when you were ten to press on the open wound on my knee. It still lies under my pillows, smelling faintly of crimson rust. I run my fingers over your unruly and unfinished attempt at embroidering a rose. It makes me feel at ease.

So please do not forgive me. For all the hurt that I've caused you and the pain I still continue to inflict upon you. I believe that I ought to die on the battlefield that takes you away from me than live to see another man make you the mother of his children and the empress of his nation. With my demise I shall atone for wounding my beloved ladybug. If by any chance I do not, there shall be a stream of blood, red as my affections for you. It’ll run all the nations and regions scarlet until and unless I have you. Rightfully by my side, where you belong.

Yours longingly and lovingly, Satoru.

The crown prince may have written this honest letter to bear his heart out to you, but with years of bleeding heart and disappointment in regard to the current situation, he did not send it. He simply could not. Instead, he wrote the last letter, the twenty-first letter, in your name and finalized it as the appropriate letter to send to you. Because he remembered that if you do not send it, then it is not a letter but a diary.

a/n: dividers @/cursed-carmine and @/strangergraphics, first picture is from Atonement, art creds to @/loquatini on tiktok, and the last one idk just randomly got it from Pinterest.

i just wanted to share the letter part. cause idk this shit is wrecking me. so i hope some of you feel the pain with me.

taglist open<3

tag list: @curieu @madamechrissy @gojosperms @satoblue @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @soupicidesquad @indiewritesxoxo @gojosconsort @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @ricecake-mochi @emochosoluvr @bakugouswaif @veahhcarothers

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baepsays · 2 days ago

Text

INSATIABLE ⸻ Demon Gojo

synopsis ⸻ What would you do if one day some sort of gorgeous-looking entity randomly started floating around you? definitely not make a deal with it. right?

pairing ⸻ incubus gojo x reader

cw ⸻ MDNI, NSFW, Alternate Universe—Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe—Different Powers, Demon S*x, Public S*x, Non-Consensual Touching, P0rn With Plot, P0rn with Feelings, Isolation, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Death from Old Age, Exhibitionism, Manhandling, Supernatural Elements

wc⸻ 15k

a/n: Fingers crossed I do not get jailed again.

PART ONE

This is hard. And so inconvenient.

How long do you have to go like this? Trying to fumble around with your fingers to reach places that you cannot and just wishing there weren't a bunch of creepy apparitions floating around outside of your windows.

Maybe it's time to invest in a dildo or something, because trying to get a boyfriend has been fruitless.

It is not that you were not trying or that no one was interested. But it feels like you attract this very specific demographic of men, and they were all a bunch of creeps. Or just beings from the underworld.

You come from a family of shamans; your grandmother, who was one of the most infamous shamans when she was alive, couldn't pass down her abilities to her daughter, nor did she want your mother to live like she did. Constantly being pestered by apparitions, ghouls, and demons—it took a strong mind to act like any other normal person while being surrounded by such dark things.

And unfortunately for you, you inherited the centuries-old powers that run in your family.

From your memories, you distinctly remember when you first started seeing these things. You were 7 years old, and this kid showed up in your backyard when you were playing all by yourself. And he became your best friend. You hurried home from school to play with him, and he'd always be waiting for you in your backyard. You'd hurry to get off the school bus and run past your mother to run straight to your backyard.

Your mother never really thought too much about it, but when one day your teacher told her that you've not been making friends in your class, spacing out in class, and waiting to go home to play with your best friend—your mother naturally became worried. She never saw you playing with someone. And you've always had so many friends since you were a kid; you loved school. She could not help but wonder what was going on.

That's when your mother sat you down to ask about this friend of yours. Who was apparently sitting right beside you and did not appreciate your mother's tone.

Your poor mother, who was sheltered from these things by her mother her entire life, had no idea how to help you acclimate to these things. Fortunately, your grandmother was still around then; she exorcised your friend without telling you, and for days you were bedridden after crying yourself sick, missing your best friend .

Things were never the same since then; you struggled through kindergarten and elementary school, unable to make friends. And when you did, they were always creeped out by you. It was either you'd bring a friend with you to play with everyone else, who couldn't be seen by others. You'd be petting a cat, again, that no one could see. They'd find you helping a grandpa, who also was not visible to bare eyes.

Around the end of elementary school, your parents finally sat you down and explained what was wrong with you.

And eventually, before you even entered high school, you were named that one creepy kid. The high school kids were more brutal than the elementary or kindergarten kids. The bullying, the silent murmuring, rooms going silent when you'd walk in, getting weird questions like,

‘Hey, can you really see ghosts? Or are you just faking it for attention?’

Rumors were circulating that you'd curse people if they spoke to you. Which did help with not getting asked weird questions. But that meant things became more physical. Your books would be gone before class, the desk would be pushed off to the side, juice spilled on your chair—and even the teachers wouldn't help you. How would they help if they can't even look you in the eyes themselves? So you were left to your own vices, except for this one kid from the class next door to yours. Who would not stop pestering you, saying things like ‘who cares’—when you’d yell at him to stay away from you, telling him how no one would talk to him if they saw you with him. He was the only person ever to stand up for you then, when you would also refuse to stand up for yourself. Back then you found him quite annoying, but now you’d say he is the only reason why you can still think about that time without spiraling.

So your parents moved around a lot for your sake. In the few years of high school, you lived in approximately 7 different places. So when you graduated from high school, you knew you wanted to move out of the country for at least these 4 years of university. The rumors caught up with you one way or another, whether you were in a big city or some small town. So in your opinion it was the best possible solution.

So you moved away. And things were somewhat better; no one came up to you asking whether or not you were faking your powers for attention, but it did not improve your social life. You remained all by yourself throughout college, in an unknown place, miles away from your parents. But you did master how to ignore the floating entities around you.

The more you ignore them, the more they slowly start to pester you less and less.

It was around the time just before your graduation that your grandmother died. And unfortunately, you could not go back home to see her one last time, and neither could your parents fly out to attend your graduation.

Just like that, you graduated all alone. Like you started college all by yourself.

After a few months, you moved back home and found yourself a job with good pay and an apartment in a nice place. Your parents moved back to your mother’s ancestral home and visited you as often as they could. But that didn't solve your loneliness. Parents can only give you so much support, but the lack of a social life can't just be mended by great parents, unfortunately.

At work, people never became comfortable enough around you to call you a friend; you were intimidating to them. It was hard to approach you, and the cloud of gloom that floated around you may not have been visible to them, but it ran a shiver down their spine. So your colleagues kept it short and concise when interacting with you. During lunch you either ate by yourself on the rooftop or went out all alone.

Dating was equally hard. If not harder, you tried almost everything. Meeting new people, which only ended up with creepy men trying to hit on you; online dating, which never worked out; and even meeting some people through your parents, who always brought up the rumors from your past.

No matter what you did, you kept being haunted.

Like right now, a lady kept peering into your room from outside of your windows with this creepy smile while you tried to ignore her as much as you could and focused on the people getting it on on your laptop screen. Fortunately, the talismans all over your apartment kept these things out. But it did not stop them from lurking.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mumbled to yourself, trying to focus on the couple moaning on your screen but getting constantly distracted by the smiling lady outside of your window.

Being unable to focus on your screen and unable to use your fingers precisely, you gave up on trying to relieve yourself, slammed your laptop shut, and went to bed. Defeated and frustrated.

The next morning you woke up to something poking your nose.

You didn't live with any pets. And no one other than you and your parents had access to your apartment. And there are spiritual bindings and talismans all over your apartment to keep entities out. Then why is there a guy floating on top of you?

He has white hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and nothing on his body except basketball shorts. He did not look translucent enough to be an apparition. His poking ceased as you got off your bed to get ready for work, seeming as nonchalant as you possibly could. If this entity is strong enough to infiltrate your home, who knows what else he's capable of?

You headed to the bathroom with him now, walking closely behind you. Before he could come in, you closed the door on him. Which was so helpful; the guy just emerged behind you, and you could feel him standing close to you, holding you by your waist, putting his head on your shoulder. But you couldn't see his reflection in the mirror. From the side of your eyes, as discreetly as you could, you saw him smiling and looking at you in the mirror. Then you saw his fangs peeking, not extremely prominent, but visibly there. And felt his claws digging through your shirt; his entire hand was the color of the midnight sky, which went up his forearms and faded into his pale skin around his elbows.

It was hard to classify this guy; usually entities that manifest from previously alive beings just float around, and if they are brave enough, they try to possess you, which results in them instantly burning due to the locket that your grandmother left behind. Which held a fraction of her life source. The most probable answer is that he is a demon.

It was fairly easy to distinguish apparitions, phantoms, ghouls, etc. But demons, on the other hand, were complicated because they are more deceitful than others. It was easier for them to possess people, form a disguise, or use veils. You only ever had to face one demon in your life, and fortunately it was just a dog. Also, it was extremely friendly to you.

This guy doesn't feel like a normal entity. If he is powerful enough to cross your spiritual boundaries and just touch as he pleases, he is not something you want to mess with. So the best bet is to ignore him until you can figure out what his intentions are.

But it is not easy to maneuver with an guy above 6’3 holding onto your waist and floating around you.

And how are you even supposed to do your daily routine? You can't just not do anything because there is some entity attached to you. Without risking your powers being exposed, you have to get rid of him.

So you tried to recite some spells of protection to get rid of him. Didn't work. Next, you made it seem like you were stretching while the guy was standing still in front of you and trying to follow your movements, and just when he bent down like you just did, you placed a talisman on his back. It burnt away just as soon as you placed it.

You didn't have many choices, which kept your secret safe from him, the fact that you can see him.

Feeling annoyed and becoming more and more anxious, you went to the kitchen; maybe some coffee will help. The water was boiling in the kettle, and the coffee beans made a coarse sound while they were being ground. And the white-haired entity sat on your countertop, kicking his feet like a kid. Perhaps the frustration of last night and this guy showing up was getting to your head, because you reached out for salt instead of the sugar. You are also at fault here for keeping similar-looking products next to each other in similar containers without any labels. Your father definitely would nag you if he saw this.

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Between you almost putting salt in your coffee and the white-haired, blue-eyed entity sneaking his hands under your shirt, you shrieked and your hands jerked up. Which resulted in the salt being thrown at the guy behind you, resulting in his instant disappearance.

Huh? For a being that powerful, it sure is silly that it was the salt of all things that got rid of him.

You really thought he was gone; if not fully, then maybe at least he would not dare to come close to you now. So you made your coffee, with sugar this time, and reminded yourself to rebind your home with stronger protection.

Unfortunately for you, this was not the last of the white-haired, blue-eyed entity that you'll be seeing.

The rest of that day you spent anxiously looking for that white-haired, potential demon. You looked around your desk, under your desk, around the rooftop of your office building, where you usually eat your lunch, and even around the bathroom cubicles. To the point where you were anxiously looking behind yourself while walking down the hallways, walking to the subway station, on the train, and at the grocery store.

And fortunately, except for random apparitions and ghouls, the particular guy with sharp claws didn't show up. Yet still, you didn't get any sleep that night, which was the usual without any melatonin gummies, though things have been a little better for the past few months. Instead of the usual 3 hours of sleep, you've been getting 6 hours! But the worry kept you up until it was 4 AM in the morning, and you felt somewhat reassured that he wouldn't be showing up.

The white fluff of hair and boring blue eyes reappeared around 5:30 AM. Honestly, he appeared way later than you anticipated. Also at a very inconvenient time, which is about to become a pattern with this thing that you've attracted.

Instead of your 7:30 AM alarm, you woke up to a pair of cold hands and sharp nails gliding over your skin. Coldness like you've never felt before, yet burning like hell itself, resided on those fingers. Those hands seemed to have no strategy or plan of where they wanted to run wild; they started groping on your thighs, leaving indents of his sharp claws on the sensitive skin. Just enough pressure to leave marks but not to make you bleed.

And you knew when your eyes snapped open that he was back. It took a lot of holding back to not instantly sit up and throw salt at him; he'd realize that he's visible to you. But the way his hands were creeping upwards from the side of your thighs to your hips, then stomach, and nearly up to your chest—you sprinted towards the bathroom and locked yourself in there.

As embarrassing as it was to have a floating entity hovering in front of you as you tried to get your scheduled toilet routine done, you had no choice but to let him simply exist. This time around he was in a set of pajamas, which was very strange.

Entities, who emerged from human beings, either always were naked or were adorned in clothes they were either buried or cremated in. It was not usual for them to change clothes or reappear after being shunned away. There is a ritual of giving entities clothing or other things—it is a process of making these objects as offerings meant for the specific spirit you want to give them to and then incinerating them at the end so the objects reach the realm of the dead. And since this guy can change his appearance at will, this means your suspicions were correct; this is a demon. And if you are accurate in your guess, this is a sex demon, an incubus.

That is the most plausible explanation, given his behavior so far: touching you, twirling your hair, even sniffing you. But you wish, oh so badly, that you were wrong. It'd be a pain in the ass to deal with a demon, and it'd be a million times worse to deal with a sex demon. Because look at the state of you; what vitality do you have left in you to feed this demon?

Plenty, it can be assumed. From how he basically attached himself to you for the rest of that day.

From showering, with his intrusive hands and stares, barely dodging his perverse attempts. Getting ready for work and rushing out with just some toast with coffee in your stomach and a demon floating behind you, you went about the day by ignoring his entire existence. Especially his hands. Which seemed to have a mind of their own and a sleazy look on his face that could only be explained through one word that you kept repeating to yourself the entire day in agony and rage.

‘ Demonic little Pervert.’

Lying on your bed after an exhausting day of trying to run away subtly from a demon in the hallways, the rooftop where you eat lunch, and even the restroom, which was all just futile; the entity made himself at home in your cubicle, just around you in general.

Never did you ever feel so comfortable in your own skin as the way the demon felt touching it.

And now he is pushing his hands up your wrinkled skirt, trying to unbutton your blouse. So you just turned to your side, with an arm under your head, and stared at your curtains. Wishing for this demon to finally clock out as well and leave you alone. Do demons have working hours like a corporate employee crushed under a hyper-capitalistic system? Most probably not.

Therefore, unfortunately, it means he is not disappearing anytime soon.

If it came down to it, you'd just have to put on a show of trying to come across clumsily and mistakenly spill salt over him. But for now he just lay beside you, facing you, similarly on his side. Smiling from ear to ear and tracing a finger around the features on your face. Your jaw, the bridge of your nose, the tip of your nose, your bottom lip, your chin, and finally the little mole under your eyes. When you thought he was done, his finger poked you in the eye.

“OW!” You shrieked and sat up, covering your tearing eyes.

“YOU HORRIBLE FUCKING DEMON! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” All it took was one poke in the eye, and all your pretenses evaporated.

There was a long pause in the air. Along with some confusion from the pajama-clad demon, whose confused face and tilted head soon turned into an eager and smug audacity.

“Oh? You can see me?”

Shit.

“N-no?”

“Oh, really?”

If even for a second you thought your very poorly blurted-out lie worked. Oh, how wrong you were for that.

In a mere blink of an eye, the demon is above you, and you are pinned down beneath him, with no power in you to move. As if you were paralyzed for some weird reason.

This shitty little demon.

You were, in fact, pinned down by demonic powers, way out of your league of understanding, of the incubus above you. You were rendered nothing but helpless prey to the predator, whom you've managed to lure into your home.

You could lie there and think about everything, trace back your every step, and wonder what exactly had you end up with a demon leeching on you. But that’d require sanity and clarity, both of which you currently lacked severely. Due to the demonic entity and his fluffy white hair, covering those blue eyes, nothing is as dark as electric blue, but more shocking than ever.

“Aw, angel, you ignored me for the entire day when you could've just let me know you were busy admiring me.” His whispers fanned your neck, and his left hand slithered up your thigh as he made his legs comfortable. One right in between your own very thighs, opening them up, despite whatever left protest in you, while his other leg pushed one thigh from the outside. Positively putting you in an unknown, uncomfortable place. But the heat between your legs was growing rapidly.

“Should I assume yesterday the salt was intentional too? Hmm? So mean, angel, aren't you?” The faux hurt in his voice felt slimier than his hand on your throat. Gripping, not choking, yet.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, but I am trying !”

His laugh echoed through your half-empty room. Which truly looked unlived. No furniture other than what was necessary. No wonder you kept attracting these entities with your truly haunted-looking apartment. Even the bed was forced upon you by your parents; otherwise, it would’ve been just a mattress on the floor. And now it is the same bed where you lay helplessly at a demon's whim.

“Let’s become acquainted with each other, yes?” The hand that held his weight was now on the crown of your head, caressing. And the one on your throat made its way under your skirt. First it was just one long swipe over the shape of your pussy, covered under your panties. Then it was a finger pushing itself between your folds; despite the cloth being a barrier between your skin and his touch, it still managed to find your clit, and he pressed down on it. It was enough to make your entire body jerk, having your thighs close down on him.

“Oh angel, are you weak there?” There was no pity in his voice. It was patronizing. Just a lion playing with his prey before mauling it to death.

“Let's see where else you’re weak.”

The hand on your head caressed your head while the other played with your panties. Pulling on it, letting it snap back and cling to your skin, feeling the dampness through the thin material. And you lay there anticipating his next move, with eyes closed tightly shut. Waiting for him to just incinerate those panties off you and take his fill.

But when nothing came after for a long while, you slowly opened your eyes. And you felt your body lighter than how it felt before; you felt the sheet of metal like a heavy veil covering your body was now absent.

And so the demon was gone.

Incubi, or sex demons, are said to haunt people who are sexually frustrated. Because they are a great source of food for the demon.

And as a sexually frustrated, haunted, and isolated person—this should be great for you! Oh, how you wish it could be said things were like that.

Instead it was waking up the white-haired demon under your sheets, with his face between your boobs, hands groping them, while his hips rutted into yours; he was very clearly hard and possibly leaking. You could feel the sleazy smile on his face, even when everything below his nose was buried in your chest, and his eyes looked at you through his white wispy hair. They looked hungry, to say the least, and threatening, to say the most.

“Good morning to my sweet angel.” He tilted his face, and it was now visible, the sleazy, dopey smile on his face that said he'd rather be nowhere other than where he is right now.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“Ooh, now call me a bad boy; that'd just make me cream my pants!”

Before you could sit up and throw a few punches at him and maybe reach out for that salt shaker you put on your bedside table, he disappeared again. It was now just you, in your disheveled bed, your tank top pulled up to your neck, and your wet panties.

Well, he is hot; you have to admit to that. And you are very frustrated, needy, and sensitive. That is all.

The train that morning was disgustingly full. All because of a certain demon. Usually you leave a bit early to avoid the morning rush, but today you have to be crushed in between a bunch of sweaty people in a suit.

In these situations, there are always a few creeps among the crowd. And at this point it is hard to say whether it is your bad luck or some sort of you were the target of one of these creeps.

An older man moved behind you when the next station came, with a bunch more people getting in. When he initially pressed against you, you didn't think too much about it; everyone was pressed against one another whether they liked it or not. The man's intentions only became clear when a hand crept up the side of your thigh.

Unlike the demon's hand, it felt rougher, unpleasant. You felt like throwing up; somehow you couldn't even do anything. You just froze up there. Unable to do anything while some stranger tried to fumble with your belt. It was as if there was something entirely unworldly holding you captive. You looked around; anyone could barely see you in the corner like this. But they should still notice something like this.

And then you looked down; the hands that were trying to take off your belt were translucent. The set of feet beside yours was hardly noticeable.

You got ready in a hurry this morning. In fact, you happened to be in such a hurry that you mindlessly left behind your previous locket. The same locket that protects you from this sort of situation.

“I see you on this train every morning. Yet I can never do anything. Hah. I am lucky today.” You could now feel the coldness of the apparition behind you. Presumably this man somehow died on this train, and unfortunately, like any other entity, you caught his eye.

His hands were almost done with taking your zipper down. That's when you looked to the side, with teary eyes, and you saw the white-haired demon in the overhead luggage carrier. His blue eyes were boring into the man behind you.

“Aw. You're trying to find a replacement angel?” In a flash he was by your side instead of where he was previously.

“H-help me. Please, please.” One of your hands reached out to grab onto the demon, who was now weirdly in a suit. Your other hand grabbed onto the apparition's hand, which tried to creep into your underwear.

“JUST HELP ME PLEASE!” You whisper-shouted at the demon as quietly as you could without alerting anyone around you, and your grip on his jacket tightened.

“Since you asked so nicely, angel.” He flashed you a smile before his gaze shifted to the guy behind you.

“Hah. Yeah, try me, motherfu—” Before the apparition could even finish, the demon lifted one finger towards him, and within mere milliseconds the guy was gone.

Maybe you've taken this demon for granted, given how he acts around you. But it seems like he is immensely powerful, beyond anything or anyone you've ever seen. You've never felt power like this. Why is this demon even trying to feed off of you in the first place? Someone, or something, this string needs more vitality than you could ever produce.

“Wouldn't you kiss your hero as thanks?” Once again, you are pinned to the train's walls. This time against the blue-eyed demon, who just saved you from a creepy apparition.

“I only got in this situation because of you anyway.” You scowled at him, trying to push him off of you, with not much protest to actually get him off this time.

“Aw, how so?” Oh no, he looked adorable with that pout. You need to get a grip.

“If you didn't bother me this morning, then I—ugh. Whatever. What is with your outfit changes anyway?” You tried to whisper-shout at him again and hoped that no one else noticed what a nutcase you must have come off as.

“Hmm? Why? Don’t you like the suit? Want me to come naked next time?” That smirk on his face was doing things to you that you did not agree with.

“No! And stop suddenly disappearing and reappearing!” You felt his hand, which somehow was now on your waist, tighten, and another hand moving up between you two.

“Why? Y’miss me?” You could feel the heat creep up your neck, to your ears, and spread through your face.

“No. But, I can't believe I am saying this, thank you for being here.” His face lit up with a big, toothy smile. And you just had to look at his stupid fangs and his blue eyes and his tail-wait. He has a tail?

“I would've liked a kiss better, but I'll take what I can!” A thin, warm, pointy tail curled up your ankle when you looked down to confirm your thoughts. And indeed it was, as jet black as his hands and claws, a sharp tail. Before you could ask him where it even appeared from? You felt his claw on the waistband of your panties. Pulling on it with one sharp nail and letting it snap back on your skin, making you yelp in the process.

“That is a very pretty shade of blue you have there.” His hands slipped into your panties as the words left his mouth. His eyes trained down between the two of you, where your one hand flew to his wrist to prevent his claws from further slipping beyond the mound of your pelvic bone.

“St-stop!” Your other hand once again grabbed onto the arm of his jacket for support.

“Why? Don't I get my reward?” His head tilted in pure confusion.

“But—I said—” “That's not enough.”

Now that he looked up and stared you right in the eyes, you could not stop him any further. What it was was unclear—the charm of an incubus or your years' worth of frustration—nothing made sense.

You were basically breathless, unable to inhale or exhale anything. The sensation of his claws scratching against the sensitive skin between your legs and the grip on your waist in the crowded train. You could feel how his fingers inched closer and closer under the pad of his finger on your clit, and the sharp end of his claws was digging into your inner thighs and grazing your hole—it was all too much.

“Your, your claws.”

“Oh, that can be fixed in a second, angel.”

You could feel his fingers putting more pressure on your cloth, rubbing it, drawing figures of eight on it. While the rest of his fingers dug themselves into the flesh of your pelvic area. The claws were gone, just like that. Like how his clothes change with every appearance, his tail grows at his whim, and even his claws retract back into his skin.

Honestly, you were not sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. The claws were a good excuse to put a stop to what was happening, unless he did not give a shit about your well-being, which it didn't seem like he did, to an extent. But then again, when you brought up his claws, you genuinely just didn't want them to get in between you and his fingers. Sure, the sensation of the claws was something else, but not worth the bloodbath.

“Aw, look at my pretty pussy, so wet f’me?” He leaned in to your height to whisper in your ears. And you just prayed to whatever was out there that you don't get arrested for indecency in public.

It was truly humiliating. Having your back pressed to the doors of a public train, face turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the demon in front of you and the reflection of your own fucked-up face in the black glass of the doors. You'd rather look at your own humiliating expressions than know what was going on down there.

“Oh, she is so wet f’me, right? All for me.” His fingers were inside of you, two fingers deep, thumb on your clit, other hand on your waist—probably leaving marks—and everything was more visceral than ever.

It was maybe the train full of people almost finding out what you were up to, maybe it was his ink-tinted hands, which felt different than anything you've ever felt, or simply the fact that a demon of all things is making you feel such pleasures.

“Y-you have to—”

“I think you should be more concerned about what you have to do, angel.”

Even though he left the most important part unspoken, it was clear what you needed to do. You needed to cum on his hand in this train for him.

And with motive, his fingers both stretched in different directions inside of you. Pushing your walls and trying to remember every inch of you, memorizing it all. All the while his thumb kept going faster and faster, drawing little circles on it, making sure your clutch on his jacket remained as is.

“OH-Oh. Oh my—fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am—” It was about time his fingers found the spot on your wall, that textured part of you from within, just around the backside of your clit. He found the spot that had your hands fumbling all over his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. So with the help of his free hand, he placed them on his neck, and they instantly went to his hair.

“I will, please, please, I will.” Your legs were giving out. Another second like this, his fingers pushing that spot over and over, his thumb pressing down on your clit any harder, and you'll fall on this disgusting floor.

“Go on, come on, you can do it, angel, all for f’me, right? You’ll feed me well, right?” His head was down on your shoulders, just too close to your ears; his voice was just too raspy; the whispering, the little huffs of air coming out of his mouth along with groans—it was dizzying.

“Cum on my fingers, won't you?” It was not fair. Holding you basically hostage while also pleading with such command, it was so unfair.

But you did not care about all that when you came gushing down his fingers. More than your usual ten seconds, it lasted probably for minutes, sending shock waves through your body, until you had nothing more to give to his fingers—that made sure to ride you all through your orgasm by keeping themselves mobile.

While you were a twitching, lifeless, drenched underwear-wearing mess, tightly held in his hand, he took out the fingers from your cunt. He did his best to gather everything he could, making you jump in the process. And all of that went right in his mouth.

It was honestly too generous to call it nasty. The way his tongue slipped between those slick fingers and wrapped around them. That long and sharp-looking tongue lapped all of you off his fingers, allowing his fingers to enter his mouth as fast as they wanted to deposit their hard-earned prize. All while his free hand held your face up by the chin, and he looked right down in your eyes while doing all those unfathomable, obscene things.

“So sweet.” You were not even sure if the comment was meant for you or just a general note for himself.

As his tongue cleaned up all that was left over on his hand, you witnessed the sight of his claws growing back, sharp and still equally black as some void, like the rest of his hand.

“You want some?” He leaned down to your face, nose touching yours, eyes blue as ice, before leaning down to kiss you.

It was the first time he kissed you. It was the first time anyone had ever kissed you, other than cats and dogs—but that does not count. You always thought first kisses were too overhyped; it cannot be some magical or whatever thing that people go on and on about.

But the way his lips slotted with yours and the little smile that crept onto his mouth was everything that was wrong with this situation.

This was a demon, pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you were letting him. Tasting the lingering taste of your own cum in his mouth. How his tongue tangled with yours, chased after it, and the subtle taste of his spit. It was unlike anything you've ever tasted before. You could feel his fangs against your tongue and then digging on your lips.

Nothing about this made sense. But it felt so undeniably good. So good that you almost felt as if this was it, this was right. This is what was missing. This is what your toys and fingers could not recreate.

And that did not make any sense.

If someone told you one day you'd have to call into work, informing them that you were too sick to clock in on time from a subway station. With a clingy demon in an expensive three-piece suit attached to your side, you’d probably tell that person to shoot you.

But here you are. Head in your hands, elbows on your knees, and a demon hugging you from the back. Life sure is crazy.

“Just skip work altogetherrrrr, let's go home and fuck.” His face tilted on your shoulder, and he batted his eyelashes, making attempts to coerce you into his wishes.

“Will you fuck off already?”

“You’re hurting meeeee!”

“Good.”

A pout made its way onto his filthy lips while he muttered something that sounded like ‘so mean’ under his breath. And he floated away from where he was previously annoying you to take the empty seat beside you to annoy you. He looked too cute and innocent for a demon. But maybe that is part of the deception. So you sat there with your elbows on your knees, leaning forward in your seat, to take a better look at his face.

Still gorgeous and still evil.

“I am wondering when you're going to leave me alone.” You looked forward at the empty tracks in front of you and the basically empty station. It was already well past 12:00 PM, so at least there was no one to witness you, or what it looked like to bare eyes, talking to yourself.

“Aw. I have been getting rid of pests for you, and this is how you talk to me!?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat with a more intense pout.

“Wait. You've been doing that before, just not this? Not just today?” His little comment had you sitting up in your seat and moving your body enough to face him.

“Mmhmm. I've been making sure no pest gets to you, you know! Not my fault you forgot your pendant at home. I was bringing it back for you, but I guess some cockroach found you before me.” You just stared at him in silence for a solid few minutes as he smiled at you sweetly.

“You bought my pendant?” You blinked at him in confusion. Just how powerful and how fucking dense is this guy?

All he did was reach into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out a silver chain with a dangling pendant on it. He leaned forward and reached behind your neck to clasp the chain back on you. With a little kiss on your forehead and a big toothy smile, he yet again disappeared on you.

Since it did not look like you're getting rid of this floating demonic thing anytime soon. It was the best bet to use him to your own advantage.

So this time, you waited for him patiently and eagerly to pop up in your room. After the last time you spoke to him at the station, he didn't show up for the rest of the day. Leaving you to think things through with the newfound information you got from him.

And what better time other than a Saturday night to negotiate a deal with a demon?

“So what do I get in return?” The demon looked down at you from where he was floating in the air, above your head, in just some gray sweats.

“I don't immediately end your entire existence.” You deadpanned, trying not to stare too long at his back muscles flexing from the way he folded his arms under his head. There were faint black lines, resembling strikes of lightning. They ran from the back of his arms, up to his shoulder, from his nape, down under the waistband of his sweatpants, where his pointy tail started and swished around in the air.

“Ok, ouch, angel, and here I was already choosing names for our children.” He pouted and slowly came down to your eye level, with his arms cartoonishly and lifelessly hanging in the air.

“Do not make me throw salt at you.” You leaned back on your headboard, and your hands clutched the pouch of salt.

“Alrightttt. But you can't expect a demon to just do you favors, like keeping pests off of you, and not ask for anything in return.” With a shrug, he continued. “Then I would've been the angel here, right?”

As annoying as it was to look at him smiling like he had you exactly where he wanted you to be, you didn't really have any other choice. Your pendant isn't working anymore; your grandmother's life essence and the effects of her spell are depleting from the pendant by the second, making the pendant’s barrier weaker by the second. And you don't have enough knowledge to do something about this. This annoying, sly, and very gorgeous demon is your only hope.

And unfortunately, he knows it too.

“Ok. You can feed on my life essence.”

“SO WE CAN FUCK!?” You rolled your eyes in defeat as the demon suddenly plopped on your bed with excitement, making you bounce on the mattress in the process.

“IF MY BED BREAKS, YOU'RE MAKING ME A NEW ONE!”

“Oh, no worries, I'll get you a new one every time we break one.” His cheery tone just made the words spouting out of his mouth more filthy sounding.

“You—never mind.”

But you were already too tired to say anything more. So you lay back on your bed, with your arms over your head, trying to push down the headache you could just feel coming over. The demon, on the other hand, lay right beside you on his side, taking it as an invitation to initiate his first proper meal .

But before he could get his grubby claws on you, you sat up on your elbows, making his eyes pop in slight surprise and disappointment.

“Oh right, what am I supposed to call you?” Usually you can perform a ritual, burn a spell, and get the entity's name and some other notable information like when they were born, when they died, type of death, what type of entity they are, etc. and other stuff. And you tried that for this demon as well, but nothing came out. Each time the visions were blank. It made you wonder how bad your luck must be to come across something so terrible.

“Ah! Hmm…. You can call me… Toru!” He smiled wide, looking proud of himself.

“You said it like you just made that up on the spot.” The possibility made you frown. Maybe he is being cautious so you don't find anything about him.

“Nope! That's my name!” He smiled ear to ear, eyes closed, looking like an innocent creature, like he was not even a demon.

“That just sounds more suspicious.” You squinted your eyes at him, while he just smiled ear to ear.

“Oh, come on, I thought our relationship had more trust than that.” He let his entire body fall on you, pinning you down to the mattress under him.

“Firstly, we do not have a ‘relationship’; what we have is a deal . And like hell I'll ever trust a demon.” Even though you rolled your eyes at him with a scowl on your face and tried to push him off of you, his pout just morphed into a smirk.

“Can't trust a demon, but you can let him fuck you, right?”

He pressed his hands, or claws, on either side of your head to hover over you. With that annoying smirk on his face, which made your head boil and stomach tighten. You could feel your chest getting heavier; it was getting hard to breathe normally with a demon over you and his pointy tail wrapping around one of your ankles. You tilted your head away from him, not answering him, letting the tension in the air speak for itself. The anticipation was heavy in the air for what was to come next.

Toru, as he told you to call him, nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. Moving his face up to your jaw, planting a kiss there, and going back down to dig his fangs into the side of your neck without any warning. You shrieked under his constant sucking and biting, while your left hand went up to pull on his hair, and your face scrunched up in something between pain and pleasure.

“A-are you even a demon… or a fucking vampire?” Your right arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. You could feel the flex of his muscles and even his skin that felt too human, too soft, and too warm to touch. He didn't retort to you with a verbal answer, just hummed in the crook of your neck as a smile stretched along his lips.

Once he was happy enough with the marks on your neck, he moved down to your collarbone. After licking the expansion of the bones with his sharp tongue, he moved lower to rip the front of your tank top with a single claw nail. You could feel his nail grazing on your skin, making your back arch off the bed. It felt as if your skin would break any moment and there would be an open wound, but there was not; he was too careful to not have a single drop of your blood flow out of your veins. But if you could see, you'd see a single line drawn from the middle of your chest up to your belly button. And you didn't mind that tingling sensation on your skin, the feeling of being on the edge of an almost injury, or the destroyed shirt under you.

All you could care about and focus on were his lips sucking, biting, and pulling on one of your nipples and one of his hands squeezing and kneading your other tit, while his other hand dug into your skin and pressed you into the mattress.

“Ugh— fuck— Toru.” Everything felt unreal. As an almost twenty-something touch-starved virgin, you were sure that for the rest of your life you'd have to spend it with your hand and vibrator. Yet here you are, under a demon.

“Mmhmm, what does my pretty angel want?” He moved back to place himself between your legs and placed his chin on top of your lower tummy. And both of his arms wrapped around where your thighs met your hips

“Please, Toru.” You were already exasperated, covered in sweat, clutching your sheets, trying to focus your pupils on the demon between your legs.

“Ugh, beg more, I'm so close!” He jokingly moaned and morphed his face into an expression similar to yours. Earning a weak slap on his hand, causing him to giggle while he ripped open your shorts.

“WHY ARE YOU RIPPING EVERYTHING LIKE A DOG?” At that point you felt pissed enough to gather some air to shout at him and sit up on your elbows.

“They’re annoying.”

“ You are annoying!”

“You're so mean to me!” He looked like a dog who just got reprimanded for trying to sneak into the food cabinet. And he nuzzled his face into your panty-covered cunt, then fully burrowing his nose on the mound to take a long sniff as your thighs clenched around his head.

Once he was done taking in your scent and possibly embedding it into your memory, you thought he'd move onto the next part. What, you didn't expect that he'd start licking your pussy through your panties? Not some lacy, sexy, black underwear—but some pastel pink cotton underwear, discolored on the crotch from years of wear and the horrors of periods. He bit your folds, wiggled his tongue between them, and pressed his tongue heavily on your slit. Soaking the panties in your juices and his saliva, he bit your clit along with some fabric of the panties and proceeded to suck on them as much as the barrier between his mouth and your clit allowed him. In conclusion, he was basically eating you out through your panties—like the freaky demon he is.

“J-just, fucking get rid of it.” You pulled on his hair with both your hands, one hand shoving his head further into your cunt, the other trying to pull him away.

“You said not to rip anything off.” His words came out muffled from still being stuffed between your legs.

“Just take them off normally.” You were getting too impatient to even shout at him.

“That's no fun.” Yet he knew just how to provoke you enough to have you reach for the bag of salt under your pillows.

“OK, SORRY, HERE, TAKING THEM OFF!” He sat up hurriedly when he noticed your hands were gone from his hair. “You're no fun.” He pouted and put both of your feet on his shoulder to drag your panties off.

And suddenly you felt too exposed, nervous, hyperaware of his blue eyes boring between your thighs, and hands holding your thighs open. A part of you felt like it was better when he had just left your panties on, and the other part wanted nothing more than Toru back where he was. The picture of the demon’s claws retracting back into his skin, the one last feeling of them scratching the skin of your inner thighs, was what finally made you realize the situation at hand.

You're losing your virginity to this demon, and you actually didn't mind it; you were kind of looking forward to it. It was a bizarre realization. But no more bizarre than having a demon's tongue stuffed in your hole.

Toru’s sharp tongue wiggled around trying to explore every nook and cranny inside of you, memorizing all of it. While his tongue busied itself inside of you, one of his fingers slipped in to help stretch you out more, and his other hand rubbed random shapes on your clit.

“Fuck—fuck. Ugh. There.” You couldn't help but let the groans and moans slip out of you, letting them get absorbed straight into his ego.

Toru hummed in accordance and pressed his tongue up where it had you tightening your grip on his hair. The vibrations from his moans had you twitching. And you could feel something building up, something familiar but a thousand times more intense than what you have ever achieved by yourself.

“I-I am—” You couldn't complete your warning, and yet he hummed like he understood.

He was ready to lap up everywhere that you had to offer. And when you came around his tongue, that's exactly what he did. He didn't leave behind anything that he could have the pleasure of tasting on his tongue. Sure, demons don't eat regular human food, but this was basically his human equivalent to a five-star meal.

“What?” You were either too busy staring into his eyes or just went brain-dead from that orgasm.

“Not done with ya’.” Toru pulled you towards him by one of your ankles, and the sheets under you bunched up.

“God. I've been waiting for this so long, angel; you have no idea.” He pulled your thighs to his sides, and your legs, although feeling like jelly, automatically latched around his waist. “Y’just can't wait, can ya’? Pretty cunt wants me inside so bad. She's feeling empty, huh?”

His sharp tongue went on to spout more bullshit. Like, “Don't even have to show you how to use those legs, huh?” He kept rubbing the tip of his cock at your entrance, letting it slide in a few times, and each time all he had as an excuse was “oops.”

“FUCKING PUT IT IN!” You threw a pillow at him, fed up with his antics and getting edged even before having his cock fill you up. He caught the pillow with his left hand while his other hand finally helped him put the length of his cock inside of you.

“ Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ahh!” Your back automatically arched off the bed.

“There ya’ go. Happy then, angel?” He pushed the entire thing inside of you in one go after throwing the pillow on the floor. His smile got all dopey as he leaned forward and put his weight on both of his hands on either side of you, getting a better look at your eyes rolling back behind your sockets. “You feel so much better than what I imagined, ugh—fuck—ughh, so perfect, my pretty angel.” His right hand came to your waist to rub soothing circles.

“Good heav—”

“Wouldn’t— fuck —hell be more— ughh — appropriate?”

“S-shh—ut up.”

He leaned forward to dive back in the crook of your neck; with his signature sleazy smile on his face, he continued to thrust his hips at a pace where the stretch down there burned, but it also brought you pleasure you couldn't describe. He went back to bite down on your neck as some form of holding himself back, supposedly. Even if he was moving at a pace you couldn't comprehend but felt good with, you could feel Toru, on the other hand, was holding himself back.

“Bite me again and—”

“Threatening me some more, angel?” He murmured in your ear before biting down on your bruised skin once again.

You retaliated by moving up slightly to reach his neck and bit down hard enough to have the raw and metallic taste of his blood bleed out a little. It tasted different than what blood is usually supposed to taste like; you'd know as a chronic lip biter. Sure, it was metallic and salty, and then it was sweet in the beginning and left a bitter aftertaste.

“F-fuck. You want me to pass out or something, angel?” He snapped his head to the left to face you, and in mere seconds his lips met yours. It was no gentle kiss; it was greedy. He was being so greedy with how he licked around your lips, sucked on them, forced your mouth open with his tongue, and slipped that sharp muscle inside of your own mouth to explore every nook and cranny inside, to remember the differences in how you.

“There ya' go pretty, ugh aren't you the prettiest? My pretty angel's pretty pussy—so lethal.” Toru moved around to sit back on his knees.

“Legs up, sweets.” He grabbed your legs together and placed them on his shoulder to thrust deeper and harder like that.

“FUCK. Oh, ugh—”

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Are you happy that I took your virginity? Yes, baby?” He cooed at the state of you, eyes rolled back, littered in marks, and his saliva Everything was a mess around and on you, your hair, the sheets, and you especially looked the most messed up, holding onto the sheets like your life depended on it and sliding up on them from the force of the demon's thrusts.

“Y—yes. YES!”

He giggled at your reply and focused on hitting the same spot that had you thrashing around and digging your nails into his thighs. Your groans and moans filled your little bedroom, echoed on your nearly empty walls, as the movements of his hips got sloppier.

“I—Oh gosh, I—,”

“I know, baby, cum on my cock, angel.”

And so you did; just as his fingers moved to rub your clit, you could feel the knot in your stomach detangling. When he felt your walls clench around him, he threw his head back. He was just as close to his own release, but your satisfaction came first. “Fuck, swallow me whole, you sweet thing.” His hand tightened around your ankles, still hanging on his shoulder, while his other hand moved from your clit to your lower belly to press on it as you came undone. The claws on his hand started to grow as he pressed right under your belly button, and that is probably where everything went blank for you. All you could see were white beams of light in the blur of your room, and your legs slacked off of his shoulder, shaking like you went up five flights of stairs.

“My good girl, look at that angel, shit. ”

The indents of his sharp claws left behind a shape, which could be connected to draw something resembling a tilted heart. Now it's open to interpretation whether it was intentional or not, but given he is a literal demon, there are barely any actions he does without calculating the consequences.

Before you could even realize anything, the demon cock started twitching inside of you, your own twitchy legs tightened around him subconsciously, and he stumbled over on top of you. You held him in your arms as he shot ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you.

“My pretty, pretty angel, goin’ to fill her up, breed her good.”

“You're a demon.” You said to him very matter-of-factly once you found your vision coming back. “So?”

“So, how are you going to get me pregnant?” He raised an eyebrow at you and flopped down on you, then buried his face by your head and tilted his head to look at you with a sly smile.

“Who said demons can't get you pregnant?”

“WHAT?” You almost sat up and shoved him off before he started laughing and pushed you back down.

“Wait, wait, ok, so yeah, it's possible, but it's more complicated than that. So no worries, you won't get pregnant unless I actually try to do that.” He smiled at you and rubbed soothing circles by your side. He looked finally content, like you do after a scrumptious meal.

“More reasons to not trust your ass.”

“Oh, you can trust my ass; touch it if you want real bad.” He said in a playful sing-song voice and ended his sentence with a wink. It made you slap his shoulder, but you couldn't help but let a few chuckles slip out.

Your laughter died down, and everything around you started dimming down too. The weight of his body, the feeling of his tail wrapping around your ankle, his hands holding you tight with his claws back in his skin, and his cum seeping out of you—it was a recipe for deep slumber. And sleep you did; this was after a very long time. Your eyes got heavy to the point you couldn't keep them open anymore. This felt nice; this felt like something you could get used to.

But when in the morning, afternoon to be exact, well past 12:00 PM, you woke up after a full night's sleep, he was gone. It felt like you just went to bed, and without any dreams disturbing your sleep, when you woke up it felt like just seconds had gone by. But he was gone.

Maybe you shouldn't get used to this.

Making deals with a demon never comes without a price.

For you, that cost was probably your sanity. Honestly, what is worse? Entities roaming around you or a demon tiring you out. Not easy to answer, but the feeling of his tongue inside your tongue first thing in the morning, accompanied by orgasms, wasn't such a bad thing.

“I loveee breakfast in bed!” He’d moan in your ear while thrusting into you with full force, like he didn't have dinner the night before. Plus now you get to sleep like a normal individual at night, well, after getting fucked to a puddle of nothing, that is.

“You look so good in this shirt, fuck, I just wanna tear it off of you.” The demon muttered right in your ears while floating in the air just beside you.

You were at your desk, at work, inside of your office building, trying to focus on your tasks for the day, yet somehow every one to two hours the demon would show up to terrorize you. Some days he wouldn't show up during working hours, some days he'd be here for way too long, and some days he'd come and go in intervals. The inconsistency made it harder for you to come up with measures to prevent the demon from trying to let his claws wander anywhere he'd like or run his tongue to spout the most vile things in broad daylight.

“Ughhh, I wish I was inside you right now.”

“You are so focused, it makes me want to bend you over on this table.”

“I want to eat you out right here and have these people watch me. I bet you'll like it.”

The whining was tolerable, but the words that came with it were the problem. To be fair, it was the demon in it of itself who was the problem. But then again, since he has been around, you have not seen a single other entity around you; things have been so smooth, if you don't count the whole demon situation.

But change is always taxing. That's what you told yourself when you suddenly got sick after a week and a few days of having the demon around. He is basically becoming an usual part of your routine; the only reason why he is not is because he is extremely unpredictable. Like catching a cold, you're fine, sucking on a popsicle one day, and the next day your throat is hurting, so you brush it off thinking it'll go away at the end of the day. But it's not; it only gets worse the next day, and by the third day you're bedridden with a high fever.

That's exactly what happened to you.

Figuratively and literally. A demon latched onto you all of a sudden, and now he is freely using you as he pleases, and you are also bedridden, sick from god knows what, counting down your days because it feels like death.

“It’s not that bad, angel.”

The demon suddenly appeared next to you on the bed. And you could feel your temperature about to rise. You were well enough to see a blurry image of his face hovering over yours, but not enough to shout at him or move away. You were in no shape to feed him. And if that's what's going to be happening to you in this state, you might have to soon find a way to get rid of him, or better, think about how you're going to even get rid of him in this moment.

“Oof, you're burning.” Instead of the impact of his lips, you felt the back of his obsidian hand on your forehead. Taking your temperature and assessing your condition. You could barely open your eyes to look at his face, and it looked worried. His brows were scrunched, his lips were jutted out subconsciously, and he looked focused—almost human.

Toru vanished in a flash in your bathroom and then floated into your kitchen. After rattling around in there for a few minutes, he came back with a bowl of water and a cloth, a glass of water, and some meds from your bathroom cabinet. He sat you up carefully to wipe away the sweat covering your body, gently gliding the small towel over your neck, back, arms, face, and belly. He gave you the meds and helped you hold the glass. Then he gently laid you back down and adjusted the air conditioner’s temperature. placed a bottle of water by your bedside, sat down on the floor, and placed his head on the bed to stare at you, like some puppy.

“Do you want something to eat? Some porridge, maybe ?” He looked worried, helpless even, more than how helpless you look right now.

“How are you going to order anything?” You mumbled with your eyes closed, almost drifting away to sleep.

“I can cook!” He excitedly sat up and lifted his head off the bed.

“I don't want to be liable if you use my kitchen to burn down his building.”

“If you keep doubting me like this, angel, I'll cry.” He folded his elbows on the bed to come closer to your face.

“So you want to burn down this building with your tears?”

“Now you're stereotyping me! All because I am a poor little demon!”

“Sure, you helpless creature.” A grin pulled on your lips, and even with your eyes closed, you know there was a similar one on his face.

The conversation died there as you lost your consciousness. And the demon got to work in your kitchen. He found some sad-looking vegetables in your fridge and other things to get to cooking. He also made a mental note to remind you to go grocery shopping. He found no problem working around in your space; at this point he was more acclimated to this apartment than you, and he looked after it better than you. He gathered your dirty clothes you always left scattered on the floor, made your bed, did your laundry, folded your laundry, and cleaned your dishes and the toilet, and now he is cooking for you. If he wasn't a demon, he would be the top contender for the best potential househusband. After about an hour, he was already done.

“Angel? Wake up, eat a little, ok?” He got the little folded table on the side of your bed to place it by your side and put the plate of food on it.

“Mmhmm.” He helped you to sit up and handed you a glass of water.

When you didn't even reach out to hold it and sat there with your eyes closed and hair looking like a bird's nest, he helped you drink some water. And even spoon-fed you the food. He blew on it gently to cool down every bite, brought the glass of water up to your lips from time to time, and then also cleaned up after everything. Like the good potential househusband he is, he did the dishes, set your meds by your bedside table, and tucked you in bed.

“Get well, angel.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you swear you heard him mumble something else. But you were too sleepy, and he was too quiet. You didn't even have any energy to ask anything; your eyes were betraying you, and before you made up your mind to ask him what he said, he was gone.

The next few days went by like that. The demon came in more often than usual to take care of you. Because what you thought was just a light cold from the changing seasons turned out bad enough to make you unable to get up from your bed for 4 days. You wish you could take more time to fully recover, but then also you couldn't ignore work anymore. So for the rest of the week, with your own little demon helper, you worked from home. Making that little demon helper feel a little angsty and neglected.

“Let's just go back to the bed.” The demon floated around you like a toddler whining for candy. He has been persistently trying to pry you out of your chair for the last 1 hour, and so far his efforts have been futile.

“I have a lot to do.” You kept your eyes trained on your monitor. The light reflecting off your glasses made it harder for him to gauge whether you were just annoyed at him or being hard on him as usual.

“And I want to do you .” He said that with a stone-straight face after he popped his head between you and your monitor.

“Go back to hell or something.” You tried to look past him and continued typing.

“Do you hate me, angel!?” His face morphed into an exaggerated desperate expression, eyebrows scrunched and both corners of his mouth turned down. He cradled your face in his hands, his claws adjusted to a medium length so they wouldn't scratch you by accident. You noticed that from the corner of your eye and felt something fluttering in your chest.

“You're making me hate you.” You pulled his hands off your face and moved him to the side like a floating balloon.

With a sigh he deflated down on the floor and placed his head on your lap. You looked down at his sulky face and the way his tail thumped on the floor in annoyance. It made the corners of your lips tug. Hesitantly you placed your nondominant hand to pat the floor of his messy, white, pearly hair. And he immediately moved his head towards your touch and looked up at you from where he let his face rest on your lap. His lips didn't move anymore than the usual smirk that always adorned his lips, but his eyes tugged into a smile. You looked away from him and went back to typing away on your keyboard, but you didn't shove him off your lap. You liked the warmth of his face, the way he looked up at you, the way his eyes smiled, and how his hands wrapped around your legs.

The moment was filled with sweet silence. It felt like you might as well get used to this. But like you can't trust a crocodile’s tears, you can't just assume that a demon would be content with head pats. That'd be wishful and naive of you.

First you felt a kiss on your thighs, right on the valley where they pressed together. You didn't think much of it. Then he started sucking on the skin there; it bruised easier than, say, your neck. By the time you barely typed two incorrectly spelled words, he had your thighs parted, face buried in between your legs, sniffing your cunt through your shorts. His arms curled around your knees and kept them open with ease. So now you have a demon between your legs, licking and sucking on your cunt through your cotton shorts.

“F-fucking hell, Toru.” The demon only hummed and looked up at you from where he was positioned on his knees. Your hands were off your keyboard at this point, buried in his hair, pulling on it. He pushed your chair back, and it wheeled backwards while he dragged your shorts off you. In that sudden moment, you couldn't figure out what was even happening when he moved under your desk and dragged your chair forward and went back to the position he was in.

“Ooh. No underwear? Finally taking my advice, angel?” He kept gawking at you, at your cunt. It was better to not wear underwear at home; it felt more comfortable. But not that you'll ever tell him he was right. Toru dove right in, licking at your slit and sucking on your clit like he hadn't been fed in days. Which is not wrong; he has been starving. You were honestly surprised by how much the incubus strained for your sake. It softened your heart. But you won't admit to that as well.

“Go on. You said you were busy.”

You tried your best to ignore the fiend between your legs—eating you out like his life depended on it. It was sort of a discovery for you, seeing him on his knees for you, hidden under your desk; there was this sense of guilt that gnawed at you. But you couldn't help but get wetter with every lick and couldn't help but tighten your thighs around his head as you came all over him.

“So. Now shall we head to the bed, or do you want me to carry you?” He rested his head against your thigh as he licked around his lips to clean up everything you left behind. His smile was soft and his eyes were coercing; there was no way you were about to get out of the clutches of temptation personified, who's kneeling between your legs. With a sigh, you reclined in your chair and reached for the little satchel in your drawer.

“Sorry, Toru.” “Huh? What do you—”

Just as the sprinkle of salt hit his head, the demon disappeared from under your desk. You felt bad somewhat, but it's not like you had any other choice. It'd be easier to deal with a sulky demon than drowning in overdue work at the end of the month.

He didn't show up for the rest of the day.

Not even the next morning for his usual ‘breakfast.’ You thought he was angry with you. And it worried you. What if he was actually angry with you? What if he didn't show up for days? Was he going to be alright without getting his fill for days? Will you be alright without him around? But wait, isn't it better? To not have him around? Sure, you weren't even close to finding a replacement for your pendant or him, but wouldn't it be easier without an incubus always floating around you and whispering dirty things in your ear? Ruining your panties and cleaning up your apartment? Cooking for you and taking care of you when you're sick?

You're really getting off track.

“Hey! Good morning!” Your coworker, Ms. Miwa Kasumi, passed by and greeted you; she was pretty new. Which is probably why she has been the only person in your department to greet you without any obligations and without any stutters.

“Oh, good morning.” You did your best to return her a smile, but you were sure it came off weirder. But she still looked appreciative nonetheless and then started walking beside you towards the meeting room.

“Ugh! I hate meetings first thing in the morning; it sucks!” Ms. Kasumi whined while walking with you. Of course, who would like meetings, especially when their entire department, except for one junior maybe, behaves oddly with them? Working under a big-name company almost always sucks. Especially when it's going through new changes like getting a new CEO. So things have been hectic lately anyway. So on top of everything, imagine walking into a meeting room full of people, where your designated seat is occupied by a sex demon in a suit, who has been haunting you.

“Everything alright?” You froze in the door of the meeting, and Ms. Kasumi looked back to check on you.

“Uh—yeah!” You tried to enthusiastically answer and follow her inside where everyone was already gathered.

“Good morning to my sweet angel!” The demon piped from your seat as you walked up to it and lingered with placing your things on the table as slowly as you could. Giving plenty of time to get off your chair.

“Sit down, Ms. L/n, we're starting.” Your department instructed, and when you looked at the demon with a glare, he patted his lap with enthusiasm and a smirk on his face. You got fully cornered.

“This is punishment.” The demon said as he got comfortable under you. Maneuvering you to sit as closely on top of him as possible.

“I was just busy.” You tried to whisper back to him as nonchalantly as possible while keeping your eyes on the presentation on the screen.

“I know, but you were really mean.” He whispered back in your ear like everything that was happening between you two right now could be heard and seen by everyone.

His hands just toyed with the hem of your skirt at first. And as you got more comfortable with being on his lap, as you let your guard lower—his hands started roaming all over your body. It started innocently with drawing circles on your knees with his sharp nails, then his claws retracted back into his skin, which is never a good sign. His hands went up and up until they were just below your breasts. They stopped there and squeezed them, making you hunch defensively.

“Don't make it obvious, alright, sweets?”

He opened up your shirt and started running his fingers over your collarbones. And soon after pulled your bra down to put your tits out on a show. There you were, in a meeting room full of your coworkers and colleagues, looking down at your lap because you couldn't bear to look up to see the horrors in everyone's eyes. But the demon under you couldn't be less bothered. He played with your tits like he could smell the embarrassment and agony on you, but he could also see right through you. As if he could tell how much this was turning you on.

“What a dirty little angel you are.” He chuckled slightly right beside your ear, placed his chin on your shoulder, and bunched up your skirt. Then he pushed aside your panties, and without any prep or warning, he rammed his cock inside of you. You were on the verge of screaming out a moan; your grip on the hand rest got tighter and tighter as you felt like the room was getting smaller and smaller and hotter by the second.

“Now don't whine like I didn't offer to stretch ya’ good last night, but you threw salt at me, hmm.” The pointed tip of his tongue slipped around the ridges of your ear. “I think you are forgetting that you are dealing with a demon.”

And maybe you were. You were getting confused by his kindness and compassion, so maybe for a while you forgot he is a literal demon. Feeding from, or maybe feeding on, you.

“Distracted? Am I going too soft on you, angel?” Toru noticed how you leaned on the table with your elbows pressed on the surface for your life, but you seemed distracted. You were distracted from the meeting, from the way his hips pistoned upwards into you; you were thinking about something else, and he couldn't have that. You had to just sit there with your lips pressed together and sit there drenched in your cold sweat.

“Look up, sweets, won't you? Don't you wanna see how good I'm fucking you in front of all these people?” His hand gripped your throat, and at that point you were fully hunched over the table. All the while he thrust into your cunt with enough vigor to shake the entire table with you. His balls were basically slapping against your skin, and the tip of his cock was hitting places you did not think existed before.

“I’m gonna fucking cum inside you. Have you dripping with my cum all day? You'll like that, huh? walking around in public while m’cum fucking seeps out of you?” Toru leaned forward and pulled you back towards him by your throat. “But you have to keep it nice and warm inside of you.”

“F-fuc-k.” You muttered under your breath; you were about to orgasm in a meeting room at your office. But in this moment all you knew was that Toru was whispering shit in your ears, thrusting into your pussy, and you were about to cum all over him.

“C’mon, do it. Gush all over me like my good angel.” And like on his command, you came just like that. He bit down on your nape, and soon after came inside of you, like he promised. After he pulled out, he went and shoved everything that leaked out back inside of your pussy with two fingers and a kiss on your cheek.

“See ya’ later angel.” And like that, he was gone. And you were just left there drenched in your sweat and filled with his cum, sitting in your chair confused and scared.

“Are you ok, Ms. L/n!? I've been calling for you for the last 5 minutes.” Your boss asked from the end of the table. You were too scared to look up at him. While contemplating, your eyes landed on your shirt, perfectly buttoned just as it was, and your skirt was wrinkled the exact amount from this morning when you got off the train.

“Yes, sir, just feeling a little hot.” You do not know how you held yourself together to not stutter while replying to him while everyone in the room looked at you weirdly, except for Ms. Kasumi, who just looked concerned.

“Are you sure? Is your fever back? Do you want to step out for a bit?”

“It’s alright, sir; I'm perfectly alright.” You shook your head and told him you were just fine and took a sip of your water to cool down.

“Alright, if you say so.”

He nodded hesitantly and proceeded back to the meeting. As the meeting went on, even though you tried your best to focus on the contents of the presentation, all you could think about was one cunning demon and his cum pooling in your underwear.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT! HOW DARE YOU—WHAT IF—” You held the demon by his collar and shook him back and forth while he just giggled.

“It's ok, angel, they can't see anything.” You stopped in your tracks and pulled him closer to your face and squinted your eyes.

“elaborate.” He sighed and held your hands with his own. “They can't see me and therefore can't see anything I do to you unless I want them to.” You blinked at him, feeling somewhat at ease by his confirmation.

“Are you sure?” He nodded and kissed right under your left eye. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel at ease or something.” He giggled some more, and you couldn't help but stare at his blue eyes squinting as his lips stretched. “Yes, but I wouldn't lie to do that.”

“Says the demon.” You snorted incredulously as he snickered some more. But you felt fully at ease.

“You do know this opens up soooo many possibilities.” The demon slyly said while moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“You—” “Ms. L/n! Are you there?”

You got cut off by Ms. Kasumi while trying to curse out the demon some more for his suggestion. In a panic, you asked the demon to stay where he was, at the end of a hallway, in front of the elevator, and you walked towards Ms. Kasumi as fast as you could. When you got to her, she just immediately started asking if you were alright and if you needed to go back home.

“Are you sure you're ok?” She really genuinely looked worried.

With some reassurance, she was convinced by your pathetic excuse about the thermostat. Nonetheless, she still offered to take up some of your work and didn't take no for an answer. It was refreshing, really. Instead of people quietly putting more work on you because apparently you are more competent than them or some other excuse, even though they always have something to say behind your back, she wanted to take some load off your shoulders. It was new, but you appreciated that.

once you made sure Ms. Kasumi was gone, you walked back to where you left Toru. When you reached the end of the hall, you took a turn to find him standing in front of the elevator, looking like he was waiting for it to get here.

“What are you waiting for, the elevator or something?” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him. And the demon, on the other hand, looked fully flabbergasted to see you. It was as if he was seeing you up close for the first time. Then he looked confused and just panicked. Like he was going through too many emotions at the same time. And it made you confused in return. Why is he acting like he didn't make you think that you were about to be on the verge of losing your life just an hour ago?

“Yeah—yeah. I am.”

His voice sounded different. Deeper than how he usually speaks with you, calmer as well, but not really calm in that phony way that you know all too well. You couldn't help but scrunch your eyebrows and mirror his confused expression.

“Mr. Gojo! I found the file!” Just as you were about to interrogate him some more, an exasperated and tired-looking man ran up to the demon with a bunch of files under his arm and one in his hand. ‘Mr. Gojo,’ that's what he called the demon, you know, as Toru. If you were suspicious and confused before, now you are panicking and confused. What was happening, and why did that name sound so famiiar?

“Yeah, this looks good.” Toru—or Mr. Gojo—looked through the file he was handed with a stern and serious expression that you've never seen on the demon. But what surprised you more was when he pulled his hands out of his pockets to grab the file, his hands were not the same glittery obsidian anymore. And that odd anomaly made you look around for his tail, which was also gone. When he turned towards you, who was too stunned and frozen in place to say anything, the elevator doors opened with a ding. ‘Mr. Gojo’ looked hesitantly between you and the elevator while the sickly-looking man, possibly his assistant, looked between you two. He opened and closed his mouth and then just walked inside the elevator with his assistant quickly following behind him.

“See you around, Ms. L/n.” That's all he said before the elevator doors closed between you two and he was gone.

What the fuck is happening?

In your entire supernatural life, you've never encountered anything stranger than this. He had the same cerulean blue eyes, the same shade of platinum white hair, the same features, and the same three-piece suit the demon was wearing this morning. How can there be a man who looked exactly like a demon. Or was the demon disguising himself as this man? But why would he do that? What was his motive? That was all you could think about while aimlessly walking through the hallway to get to your desk. You spent the rest of your day in a trance. Typing at your computer in a daze, making more mistakes than progress. That even your boss noticed. This was not how you work; he has seen you sick, and you always push through it. But he didn't want to pressure you with too many questions and just left you alone.

At the end of the day, Ms. Kasumi tagged you on your way out; she was talking about something. But you couldn't hear anything; you were wondering why the demon didn't show up since you saw his lookalike.

“You know, Ms. L/n, the new CEO is so gorgeous! I ran into him in the hallway today, and OMG, he is cooler than what the rumors say!”

“Mmhmm.”

You disinterestedly nodded along, wanting to get home as soon as possible and put this day behind you. But just as the elevator doors opened, there he was again, right in front of you.

“Hello, sir!” Ms. Kasumi bowed down in front of this, Mr. Gojo. Like he was an important figure, which you assumed by how he walked around with the amount of power exuding off of him.

“Oh—um, you don't have to bow.” He awkwardly shook his hands for Ms. Kasumi to stand straight back up again. All while his eyes remained trained on you, maintaining perfect eye contact. You weren't one to hold eyes with someone, but here you were, refusing to look away first, maybe to find any answers behind his cerulean eyes.

“I assume you are clocking out? Thank you for your hard work. Have a good night.” He smiled at you two, and his eyes finally wavered away from you. You could see a flush of red creeping up his neck under the dim lights of the lobby.

“Thank you, sir! You have a good night as well!” Ms. Kasumi enthusiastically said as you two stepped out of the elevator for Mr. Gojo to step in with his tired-looking assistant.

“If you'll excuse me, then.” Mr. Gojo nodded one last time at you two. Mr. Han walked ahead of you, but you still kept standing in front of the elevator, staring at him shamelessly. And before the doors could close between you two once again, he smiled at you, a smile that reached his eyes, and he looked exactly like the demon you've come to know in the last few weeks.

“Bye, Ms. L/n.”

This was definitely the same guy. There is no way they're two different individuals. They're somehow connected, and you do not know how, but you need to figure it out. As soon as possible.

“See! Like I said, he looks better up close!” Ms. Kasumi enthusiastically looked at you for your agreement while you two walked side by side up to the entrance of the building.

“Who?”

“The new CEO! Mr. Gojo! You are really out of it today, Ms. L/n; please get some rest when you get home.” Unfortunately for Ms. Kasumi, you tuned out everything she said after Mr. Gojo.

There is something weird going on right now. And you, honestly, have no idea what it is. You do not have any clue other than the fact that your new CEO and the sex demon you made a deal with look exactly the same and behave exactly the same and feel exactly the same, but not entirely. And it's giving you a headache. Whatever it is that is going on, you will get to the bottom of it.

But first, you need that damn demon to show up, who's made a mess of your already tiresome life.

PART TWO ⸻> soon!

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a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a & @/omi-resources. fanart by @/3-aem, lyrics info in image, and other one is just from Pinterest.

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