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baepsays · 10 hours ago

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I FEEL THE RUSH ──── Gojo Satoru.

synopsis ────⋙ Instead of spending the very last summer vacation of your life like an average university student, you come back to your home town under unexpected and unfortunate circumstances; and silly misunderstandings lead to a blossoming summer romance.

pairing ────⋙ summer fling Gojo Satoru x reader

wc ────⋙ 15.2k (for a spontaneous silly fic i worte in 5 days idk how it got this long)

cw ────⋙ NSFW, MDNI, fluff, i mean some angst, mention of cheating, shitty ex, shitty friends, depressive episode, everyone here is rich af, teasing, banter, oral sex (f! receiving), car sex, flirting, lots of it, nothing else i wanna spoil lol, give it a read.

a/n: art by @/m0ryy , find the art here. the playlist that i used (very fun playlist ngl), also I'm tweaking the layout here and there as it just fits.

Summer is often dubbed the season of fruition, fulfillment, happiness, and new beginnings. Though for you, summer seems to be the season when you just never know what day it is.

Days blend into each other, hours pass by, the sun never seems to set, and weeks seem to end way ahead of time. And your boyfriend, or now ex-boyfriend to be more accurate, finds it the perfect season to finally break up with you. After months of cheating on you behind your back with your own closest friend, it seems he finally found the nerve to get away with it.

After they were both done leaching off of you and betraying you, it was time to leave you behind.

You wish you could say you were hurt. Broken and miserable. Well, you were miserable, not because of the recent circumstances. But rather than you being concerned about graduating, the dread of leaving behind the safety net of a tiring education system was daunting, to say the least. But at least it was there.

You don't really blame them for anything, but then you also do, though you knew when it started. When you found one of her socks in his room. Or when you smelled his perfume on her sheets. But you just never did anything; it sort of gave you leverage to not really input anything into these exhausting relationships without feeling like an asshole. A good excuse—that's all it was.

Maybe your parents wouldn't understand these things so easily; maybe to them you are their heartbroken little girl. That is probably why they showed up at your apartment unannounced immediately the day after you told them about your breakup.

And now you are in the backseat of your father's car, being driven back to the town you grew up in. Passing by the familiar ocean you always hated looking at whenever you had to drive back and forth. The vast, never-ending, salty mystery never made any sense to you. Probably why you never got around to learning how to swim.

“Are you alright there, sweetheart?” Your mother looked back from the passenger seat, only to hear you hum an unenthusiastic yes.

“We're almost there. You know they renovated the club? You should come with us tomorrow. Everyone asks about you all the time.” Your father spoke without moving his eyes from the road.

“Sure. I will.” It didn't take much to appease your parents.

Simple-minded or privileged, whatever they were, you were probably worse. With all the comfort in this world, here you were, alone by choice. Left behind and soon forgotten. Which was never your intention; you just could not be what your parents, your ex boyfriend, and your friend's expectations wanted you to be. And therefore you are now taking steps backwards at a time in your life when you are to be sprinting forward.

Summer has always been the season most unkind to you, and you've never made it feel any less unappreciated. The animosity between you and the most beloved season cannot be that easily erased with a renovated country club, or the ocean, or some ice cream, or the wind that breezes by your windows at night, or twelve hours of sleep.

But at the very least you can hope it does not burn you into the ground.

Every time you step back in your old room, a part of you wishes that your parents just threw everything out and made it into another sitting room or another gym. Then you see the posters of the band you and your high school friends once snuck out to see during your last senior year summer vacation, and it reminds you that maybe summer didn't hate you as bad as you thought.

Then the memories of the summer during your first year of college come back, how miserable it was. Locked in your small dorm, with your annoying roommate gone, yet her side of the room remained as headache-inducing as ever. Parents you could reach out to, as they were not even in the country, and you did not have it in you to ruin their vacation. High school friends who slowly drifted away and suddenly broke all relationships and the promises. All that was left was you and the miserable heat of the summer.

Anything will always be better than that shitty dorm room, even the room you grew up in that haunts your dreams now.

Walking down the stairs, you found your parents enjoying the wind cutting through them on the patio. And as you passed the living room while looking out at them sitting by each other's side, without even looking where you were going, you realized that maybe you have not really forgotten what that sense of familiarity felt like being back home.

It hasn't even been half a day that you've been back in your childhood bedroom. It was already well past 12:00 AM, and you could still walk from your room to the kitchen with your eyes closed, half asleep. Even the sound of a car pulling up in your neighbor’s driveway, the teenagers giggling in a hushed voice, and someone's dog barking—everything felt comforting and just as it always sounded. It felt like home.

It felt like you could finally open your windows, at the end of the day, and welcome the summer breeze as happily as your parents did.

You wish you could say you spent your first few days back home more productively. Instead it was just a routine of waking up at either 4:00 AM or 4:00 PM. Making coffee, eating whatever could be easily grabbed, and then spending the rest of your day rotting away in bed.

This was summer. The summer that everyone longed for and idealized, for you it was days bending into each other. Until the urgency of the decreasing free days finally made you want to pick up your unfinished assignments and open those untouched documents.

“Alright, get ready!” Your father barged into your room unannounced with the amount of enthusiasm that made you kind of regret being back home.

“You have got to stop walking into my room like that.” You didn't bother to look up at him from your bed, keeping your eyes trained on the screen of your laptop. The poor thing has been running since last night without a break. All because you found some horrible show to occupy your brain for some hours and not let you think about anything.

“Go get changed; we're going to the club!” With every step he took forward, the more you wanted your bed to swallow you whole.

“Why can't I just stay home—AND STOP OPENING MY WINDOWS, IT'S SO HOT OUT!” The sunlight suddenly poured in from your windows, and it felt like just from the looks of the shining rays of light, the heat outside could melt even when you were in the comfort of your nice and cold room, courtesy of the air conditioning.

“DO NOT ARGUE WITH ME, YOUNG LADY! YOU'RE COMING WITH US!”

And what is a poor little girl to do when her father is the one paying for her tuition fees and air conditioning bill? Certainly not going against what he asked for. She has to move her butt, take a shower, and change into a presentable sundress. To smile and nod at old neighbors she always found detestable.

You can only hope this white dress passes as presentable. Though there is nothing wrong with the dress, and sure, it is worn in, the cotton has softened significantly from when it was originally bought, which feels better on the skin than anything ever. The thin straps have become a little flimsy, and you genuinely believe the length has somehow shortened from above your knees to now where the hem lies on the middle of your thighs. But the pretty embroidery of flowers that ran all over the dress in a cream thread was what made this dress as captivating as it was.

The country club has never been a place you went with much enthusiasm. It was either about tagging your parents, running away from swimming lessons they forcibly signed you up for, sneaking into some empty room to take a nap, taking tennis lessons, or just simply sitting by the pool with your friends for lack of anything else better to do.

The worst part was always running into familiar faces, especially in such an exclusive place; everyone knew everyone. Especially when you're left by yourself at a table, like right now, sipping on some tea, only for just about any nasty neighbor to come up to you and make a few sarcastic comments.

“Oh my goodness! How have you been, honey? Look at you! It's like you're a fully grown adult now! But I still can't choose a pretty dress I see.” Oh, how you wish Mrs. Wilson would finally change for the better and stop running her mouth. And what is that even supposed to mean? You are a fully grown adult. Even though she will argue you're still the same petty kid from all those years ago. But you'd have to argue that you're a vengeful grown-up now. This is why you'll never see eye to eye with her.

“And you also look like you've aged a lot in these few years, Mrs. Wilson.” Her face soured just as quickly as it always did whenever she stopped to talk to you on the street back when you used to live here.

“Your tongue is as sharp as ever, huh?” She smiled at you with the most faux politeness.

“Well, some things never change.” And you returned her smile with a similarly fake one.

Thankfully, your parents were done chatting with some of their friends. So you said your goodbyes to her with a tight smile and walked back to your parents. Not before you let out a little chuckle to yourself hearing her scoff behind your back.

“Oh, you met Mrs. Wilson, huh? I hope you were nice.” Your mother asked in a concerned voice, knowing your long, tumultuous history with her.

Well, maybe you would've had a better relationship with her like the rest of your neighbors, who adore you! If only she didn't insult your fashion choices since you were a baby, and if her daughter didn't spend the entirety of high school trying to compete with you. Then maybe—actually never mind, you cannot be nice to a woman like her.

“Yep, I was on my best behavior!” Your smile sure didn't say so, and your mother knew that too. At least your father understood your hatred for that woman. And thankfully he still does, given the fist bump he offered you.

“You two are going to kill me one day. Anyway, we are going to the sauna. Do you want to come with us?” She sighed, tired of you and your father's dislike for the woman who happens to be a big source of your mother's neighborhood gossip.

“Sauna with you two and your friends? Absolutely not.” You'd rather sit in a scorching hot room full of old people who've seen you in your diaper, like any sane person.

“Alright, but the Getos wanted to meet you.” The Geto family lived right across from you. They happened to be your parents’ probably closest friends here. You and their son, Suguru, grew up together. You two have been childhood friends who always had a mutual respect for each other because of your mutual disdain for Mrs. Wilson and Summer.

“I'll say hello to them after you guys are done or just drop by their place later.” You adored them the best out of all your neighbors. After all, they've been nothing but kind to you growing up. You've spent a lot more time in Suguru's front yard than your own.

“Alright. We'll let you know when we are done.” You and your parents always had very different ideas about most situations.

“Huh? I can't just go home?” Where your parents wanted you to engage in some social and recreational activities, you wanted to go back to your bed.

“No. Either do something or come to the sauna with us.” At this point it felt like your mother just wanted you to be humiliated in the sauna more than anything.

“Sure, threatening your fully grown-up daughter is the best method of parenting.” The way you were sighing made you sound more like an angsty teenager than anything.

“If you were actually a grown-up adult, we wouldn't have to lecture you like this.” God forbid you get snarky and your mother lets you get away with it.

“Jeez, I'll find something to do.” No one can really argue with your mother, so guess you better find something interesting enough to do while your parents get cooked in the sauna.

“Don't cause any trouble, sweetie!” Your father said, loudly enough from behind you, that made you pick up your pace out of the dining hall. Twenty or seventy-two, they'll never stop embarrassing you on purpose.

“Not a kid, oh my god.” You speed-walked past the pool, full of teenagers and old people. Mumbling to yourself, like some sort of reassurance.

No one you know will ever call you childish or anything but mature. Except for your parents, they'd say you're still a kid. And maybe they are right; you don't really feel like an adult, nor do you feel like a kid. It's a weird limbo of being in your 20s, the supposedly best years of your life, just passing by in vain and emptiness.

The country club truly looked better than ever. The playground for the kids looked like it had been through some major improvement. The pool was now bigger; even the kids' pool was better than what you remember flapping around in. The path around the lake, by the garden, looked newly paved. And the golf course was just as vast but greener than ever.

But all of that did not meet the requisite of your interests. What interested you was beyond the pool, adjacent to the garden, and right before the golf course started.

It was the tennis court where you spent the majority of your childhood, where you met Geto Suguru. And immediately decided you have to win everything where you face him off, because otherwise he will just tease you to death. You learned your lesson when you lost one friendly match to him the day you met, and that too only on the second day of your tennis journey. And suddenly the reserved new kid on the block was a smug little shit.

‘Maybe you never had to try hard enough, but you'll have to, if you want to win against me.’ Was what he said, if you remember correctly.

Since then you've been great friends. But it was either you tried not to compete against him or made sure to grind in secrecy to not give him even the smidge of a chance to tease you.

You wish your friendship with Suguru stayed as it was when you guys were kids. Playing in his front yard, getting ice cream after school, going to the beach, and pulling pranks on Mrs. Wilson. You wish some things just never changed. But you can't really say you two are on unfriendly terms now or anything; you still get a text or call from him here and there, and you make sure to always text him back and call him if any opportunity arises. You've met up with him from time to time. And you often hear about him through your parents, and you're sure he also hears likewise.

So it doesn't feel like you truly lost a friend to your shitty teenage hormones and the span of time. But you sure feel sorry for the both of you. Neither of you had a good time in highschool, it was very similar emotions you both were going through. But you two were dealing with them in your own unique and respectively different ways. Where he chose to completely shut himself away, you chose to try so hard to fit into places you never felt like you belonged.

It was only after you came back home during Christmas after getting into college that you guys reconciled.

You are glad you met Suguru that day as a kid; otherwise, maybe you wouldn't have ever gone through with your tennis lessons. If only Suguru were there to race you to the pool, you'd have been a state-level swimmer by now.

The tennis court was empty. In the heat of a summer afternoon, with the sun at its peak, it was obvious only a fool would be on a tennis court. Thankfully there wasn't another fool like you anywhere around.

And since the net was so nicely tied up, the equipment was there looking like it had just been cleaned, and you needed something to pass your time—why not take advantage of the situation? To check your rusty tennis skills and how well your new sunscreen worked. Whether or not you were about to come out looking like a sun-dried tomato depended on it. After all, summer will be here for a while, and so will you.

The neon green ball bounced off the ground and back into your palm easily, just as easily as it flew up in the air and then collided with your racket. It made a snappy sound as it spanned across the court. The ball went to hit the fence on the opposite side. You felt the sweat dripping down your temples, the ball rolled around on the ground, and you felt like something within you finally stirred up after a long while.

The number of neon balls started to gather on the opposite side of the court, as well as around your feet, from a few missed serves. But it felt good to hear the sound of your heart beating with the sound of the ball hitting the racket.

But you can only serve a few bunches of balls in the air all by yourself without an opponent. So you tried to look for the ball-dispensing machine, which you never got around to figuring out, thanks to the always very helpful staff. But given the time, everyone must be busy serving or helping out for lunch.

Yet you walked out of the court anyway to find someone to help you out with the machinery. And just behind the court, under a tree, just at the beginning of the golf course, you found a golf cart. To be more specific, you found a man leaning back in the driver's seat of the cart, with his hands behind his head, looking beat and exhausted.

He had a baseball cap covering his face, his white pearly hair was shining in the sun, and a single drop of sweat slowly streamed down his neck, along with his prominent veins, very cinematically. Even though you couldn't see his face, you could tell this guy was not from here; maybe he recently moved or something, or he was visiting for the summer and making some cash. Either way, you felt this intrigue bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as you stared at his bulging biceps and the sheen of sweat at the end of his rolled-up sleeves around his shoulders.

‘Get a grip, jeez.’

You had to warn yourself before walking up to him. Each step you took felt heavier than before; for some weird reason, now you are thinking twice about asking the hot golf cart driver for some help.

“Um, hey?” You finally reached beside the cart and leaned just close enough to his ears. And when your barely audible voice didn't get to him, you had to summon up the courage to speak up.

“Excuse me?” This time the guy jerked up in his seat. The baseball cap fell from his face to his lap, and one of his sleeves rolled down to cover up his bicep because of his sudden movements.

“Yeah?” Now that you could get a clear look at him, you could feel the tightening knots in your stomach getting worse. Not only did his body look so much better up close, but his build also looked bigger than what you imagined from afar, and his face, oh boy.

How to start? The root of his pearly hair was damp with sweat, coming off as a darker shade of something in between white and gray compared to the rest of his fluffy hair blowing in the hot summer winds. His eyes were squinted from the sudden change in lighting, but you could see the sunlight reflecting in his blue pupils. There was a layer of sweat accumulated above his upper lip, and you had to conjure up everything to not reach out and wipe it away.

“Hi, uh, I needed some help.” You pointed back at the tennis court behind you with your free hand, and the racket in your other hand came to cover the front of your legs, like some sort of shield from the unfamiliar worker’s eyes. Which made it no secret that they were raking up your body from toe to toe, probably wondering why the fuck you are playing tennis in this heat.

“Oh sure!” He quickly jumped off the cart, leaving the cart to wobble from the sudden movements and lack of weight.

He took maybe three long strides, and he was already almost at the tennis court, while you were still standing with the empty cart, looking at the silhouette of his thick thighs in those basketball shorts.

“You comin’?” He called out for you from the entrance of the court, flashing you a toothy grin, waiting for you to reach him there instead of entering the grounds all by himself. You quickly yelled a yes and ran up to him, giggling at your half-effort running.

You walked into the court, choosing to blame the sudden rise in heat on the sun above your heads. He followed suit obediently, ending up in front of the ball dispenser.

“So, could you help me start this thing? I don't know how to work this thing.” You explained to the man, hoping for some help.

“Alright. Let's see, did you try turning it on, or did it suddenly stop or something?” He crouched down on the ground to sit on his left knee on the ground. Looking around the machine and toying with the buttons at the side that you also pressed, you were also met with nothing. He inspected the machine further to find any other way to start it, even kicking it a few times.

“Yeah. This thing is definitely broken.” He gets up to now stand facing you, with his hands on his hips, defeated.

You sighed, all disappointed, but then again it made sense why the tennis court was completely empty. He looked at your face for a bit, contemplating whether or not he should blurt out what he is thinking about offering.

“Uh, I could play against you instead!” He walked up to the rest of the equipment under the shade and picked up a racket and spun it in his hands.

“Are you sure? I'm not interrupting you, right?” You were happy to hear his offer, but you also didn't want him to get scolded by his boss or something.

“Oh please, it's my pleasure!” Maybe this was part of the service.

“Alright then, you serve.”

“Gladly.”

You threw the ball across the net at him, and he caught it without any hesitation.

He slightly bent down to position for his serve as you walked up to your post and got in position as well. He made the ball touch the racket three times before jumping up in the air and served the ball like an experienced and in-practice player. The ball flew right by your head and hit the ground outside of the boundary.

“Surely you didn't call me here to lose to me, did’ya?” A smug smirk stretched on his lips. And it irked you. In a different way than Suguru, sure, you still wanted to beat his ass in the game, but it did more for you than just aggravate you. That tightening sensation in your abdomen was back.

“No, I called you here to eat shit.” But god forbid you let yourself lose a match against some smug smart ass.

“Oh, ho ho, feisty, aren't we?” He chuckled at your shit talk. You sure didn't look like the type to shit-talk in that pretty white dress, with the wind flowing by you, asking him so politely to help with the ball dispenser.

He didn't get a time to register when you even served the ball; he was expecting another sharp reply. Instead he somehow managed to hit it back, and this time the ball stayed in the air for a while. Until you rushed forward and jumped up in the air and pushed the ball down with as much force as you could, one of his knees bent, and he slid forward to get the ball. Unfortunately, his focus went from the ball to you—the way your pretty white dress hugged you and how the skirt flipped up in the air when you made that jump, exposing more of your thighs and a glimpse of your also white panties and the little lace trim on them. This need started to brew within him, and he couldn't pinpoint what it exactly was; he is not some horny teenager, after all. And so the ball crossed the net and hit the ground, making his efforts useless.

“Huh, so you're not just all talk.”

“I am not the one running his tongue here.”

“Uh huh? We'll see who's left tongue-tied at the end then.”

“Yeah, you'd know more about that, since you're losing.”

And with a chuckle from him, you were in your position, legs spread out, racket in between your legs, ready for whatever he's about to throw your way.

Let's say you were far from tongue-tied even though you just lost.

“No, you were clearly out of the boundary there.” You walked up to the net, ready to swing your racket at him.

“Alright, alright, don't make up things now like a sore loser.” His racket fell out of his hands and landed on the ground as he walked towards the middle of the court. Meeting you behind the net.

“Sweets, please, you just could not keep up with me; it's ok to admit defeat.” That smile on his face, you wanted to smack it off, but not really.

“This one doesn't count!” You pulled the racket up to his face, not even cognizant of what you were doing at this point, blinded by the fury from your loss. “Alright, sure. Rematch then?” He grabbed the head of your racket and pulled you closer towards him; the net clung to your body, and you could feel his body against yours, with the barrier of the tennis court net between you two.

And you wish you had something to say. But you were finally tongue-tied.

“Satoru!”

Both of your heads turned towards the source of the voice, ever so familiar to both of you. Thankfully the distant silhouette of Suguru walking up to the court finally had you push away from the stranger's body. This guy you've known for mere hours, apparently named Satoru, suddenly had you at your wit's end. And somehow you had thanked Geto Suguru for interrupting your game, a first for everything, truly.

As Suguru walked up to the both of you, his usual furrowed eyebrows shot up to see you standing there looking clueless, with a racket in your hands. And he rushed his step a little more to get to you.

“And what are you doing here, huh?” His hands reached out in a fist. Which you gladly bumped in acknowledgement, and he instantly pulled you in for a hug. With one arm around your shoulders and another on top of your head, patting it, like he always did.

“Should've told me you're visiting. I saw you like months ago; you weren't even here for Christmas last year.” Suguru kept blabbering with you in his embrace, finally letting you go when you tapped on his chest to let you go for some air.

“You have to lose this habit, Sugu.” You two pulled away with a smile on your faces, glad to be running into each other after a while. It has been just texts and calls for the last few months, since your degree absolutely fucked you over, and so did your boyfriend and your friend.

“So what, you're here with your loser boyfriend?” Suguru placed an arm around your shoulders, and his smile started dimming down as he saw your genuine smile getting replaced with a tight, awkward one.

“Yeah, oh god, about that.” You explained to Suguru the whole situation with your ex-boyfriend and ex-friend, as his face started contorting in rage.

All the while, Satoru stood behind you two, leaning on the net between the courts; your hushed voices were barely audible to his ears. But one thing was clear to him: his best friend and this pretty stranger he just met a few hours ago sure had a great bond. The sort of friendship where even when you don't talk for months, you can see each other and hug instantly and spill your guts without any hesitation. Somewhere he felt a little envious, or left out maybe, unsure what it exactly was. The fact that his best friend had someone besides him whom he relied on so heavily, or the fact that you were smiling at Suguru with such ease. But then again, he literally just met you, and he's already getting ahead of himself. He doesn't even know your name yet.

Once you were done calming down a very angry and cursing Suguru, offering to beat up your ex, you finally noticed Satoru leaning on the net. And your eyes lingered on his, staring into each other's eyes, with something dense between you two, beyond physical and comprehensive explanations.

Suguru finally realized Satoru's presence, the reason why he ended up here anyway. And walked up to him, who was still staring at you instead of shifting his focus to Suguru. You felt pinned to where you stood, incapable of any movements under his gaze.

“You dumbass, you said you were going to take a break for a few minutes, and you disappeared for hours!” Suguru smacked his forehead, and finally his focus shifted from you as he got busy pouting and rubbing his forehead. So you used this opportunity to walk up to the benches to grab your bag, take out the water bottle, and check your phone. But even then, Satoru's gaze discreetly followed you there while also trying to give Suguru his attention.

“Oh, come on, it wasn't thaaaat long, and your parents left for the spa; why would I stay there and get my ass beaten up by you?” So there was another person beside you who would rather back out than go against Geto Suguru; it was somewhat comforting to know.

“Alright, sure. Anyway, how come you two are here? Together?” Suguru looked back at you and then again at Staoru.

“Oh, I was looking for a staff member, and he was just out there. Honestly I did not expect a golf cart driver to be much help to me anyway but—”

“Woah, wait, sweets, what do you mean?”

He stood up straight and had to cut you off. Because something about what you were saying told him that there was a bit of a misunderstanding here.

“And I was going to say this earlier as well: should you be speaking to a club member like this?” You walked up to the both of them and stood beside Suguru, looking a little disappointed at Satoru.

“Huh?” Genuine confusion poured out of his voice.

“I mean, as an employee here, you should—”

“Wait, wait, wait. So you actually think I work here?” He pointed a finger at himself and looked at you with confusion and dejection. So you've fucked up the calculation here, it seems.

“Oh, this is hilarious to me.” Suguru chimed in, hands folded over his chest, enjoying the mystery of Satoru's identity unfolding. Smirking to himself, enjoying his best friend's humiliation.

“I mean, you look like it. With the white polo and shorts and those sneakers with socks. In this weather, on top of it.” You tried to contain your smile while describing his outfit; it looked exactly like what some of the part-time, non-uniform-wearing employees wore to come off as more friendly.

“SEE! I told you, you look fucking stupid, Satoru!” Suguru’s voice shot up, and he pointed his index finger at Satoru in an accusatory tone. One you knew oh so well, the ‘Hah! I told you so!’ tone, and you felt bad for throwing Satoru in a situation you've hated being in in the past.

“I thought it was a good golf outfit, ok? I’M SORRY!” Satoru, in return, comically gestured at his attire to make a point for Suguru. If this whole exchange wasn't so funny, you'd have felt really bad for him.

“Yeah, and then you sucked at it on top of your horrible outfit. His father is so good at golf you'd think he'd be good as well.” Suguru looked at you, trying to put up a picture of Satoru's poor skills regarding anything golf.

“Shut up. Also, you have a lot to say for someone who made the same amount of holes as me.”

“That's because I am tired.”

“Excuses.”

Suddenly you were now a key witness for a whole crime that was about to take place; it felt like they were about to throw hands any moment. Fortunately, your phone, along with Suguru's phone, buzzed in your respective pockets. And even before checking, you both knew it was your parents.

“They're done, so should we head inside?” Suguru placed the phone back in his pocket after checking the text.

You nodded and gathered your bag to meet up with your parents and the Getos, along with the two men you ran into through a series of unexpected happenings. On the way, Suguru introduced you and Satoru to each other. You gave Satoru your name and a gist of how you grew up with Suguru. In return, you got to know that his full name was Gojo Satoru.

“I mean, I sort of know you already.” His side slightly bumped into yours as Suguru led you two into the building. You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where you even ran into someone this outstandingly gorgeous and then forgot about him. That's not possible; he doesn't have a forgettable face, even for someone like you who forgets people's names and faces really quickly. You were sure if you ever saw him, you wouldn't have forgotten him. If you ever walked past him on a busy street, even then you'd remember him.

“Well, Suguru talks about you sometimes, so it feels like I kind of know you already.”

You didn't know what was the cause of the fluttering sensation in your chest, the fact that Suguru cares about you enough that you get brought up in his conversations, or the gorgeous smile that Satoru threw after what he said, or was it simply what he said?

There have been plenty of times someone said they felt like they'd known you for a longer time than how long they actually knew you. And it always irked you to think someone you don't even know thinks they know you, presumably, well enough. Yet in this case you didn't feel that, maybe because he's Suguru's friend. But this wouldn't have been the first time you didn't like one of his friends, so that was not the case.

Maybe he was just some strange exception.

On your way back home, at dinner, after dinner, during breakfast the next morning—all your brain was occupied with was nothing but Gojo Satoru.

I mean, what choice did you have left when your parents wouldn't stop singing his praises? Truly simple they are. The whole story about how you thought he was a staff member was a hit. That, accompanied by some flirting with your mother and some bad dad jokes with your father, and now suddenly he is their favorite person ever.

If there was a tier list, surely it's Gojo Satoru, then Geto Suguru, only because he has broken a lot of your windows while playing catch as a kid, and lastly you. And you cannot argue with them. The man sure has his charms and knows how to use them.

Now that you are just standing by your window, with no one to influence your opinions or thoughts, you cannot help but go back to thinking about that man. For once you wanted to open your windows during the day, in hopes of catching a glimpse of something. Or someone, but you were still too stubborn to admit that to yourself.

But you still were fortunate enough to find what you were exactly looking for.

Satoru was in the Geto residence’s driveway, right across from your house, visibly clear from your windows. In a tank top that had a Sonic X logo in the middle, which was soaked in sweat and soap water. There were bubbles around his forehead, and his bangs were clumped up and wet. The sheen of the off-white car covered in soapy water reflected an angelic light and all the colors of the rainbow all over him. It was flashy and ridiculously expensive-looking, most probably imported from somewhere, flashier than most of your neighbor's cars, but it really suited him.

There was nothing remarkable about what he was doing; he was washing his car. And yet, to you it was somehow the most fascinating thing you've seen since you came back home, or maybe in years.

The shape of his muscles was making outlines in his tight-fitting, drenched top. That silly Sonic X logo somehow made him look cuter. And all it did was make your eyes drag upwards from there, towards the platinum chain sitting on his collarbones. It lay flat around the curve of his neck, and the taut muscles there, as he moved his arms back and forth to clean the car, the chain moved along with his movements. Bouncing off his skin to sit curved on his collarbones again and again.

His teeth grazed his bottom lip from time to time, but his eyebrows and eyes did not show any signs of frustration. How he was just standing in the sweltering sun, in a soggy tank top and shorts clinging to his body, soap all over him, hair semi-wet in that said water and sweat—it was beyond you. But you just could not look away from him.

But maybe the intensity of your eyes reached his skin better than the sun. He looked up from his car, right towards your house, and after a second, his eyes found your window. And also you, standing in the window, shocked to be found caught red-handed, not doing anything bad, but also nothing you were proud of.

Satoru's unoccupied hand moved up to wave at you with a sweet smile. And you malfunctioned. Instead of waving back at him like a normal person would, you hid behind your curtains. With a heaving chest, you stood there until you felt the heat rising up your body, going down. When you peeked outside, still hiding behind your curtains, you saw him leaning down on the car, with his arms folded under him, head tilted and eyes still directed towards your windows.

Now you certainly could not just come out and wave a hi back at him. So you did the sensible act of ducking down on the floor to crawl all the way to your door. You remained on the floor until you could shit your bedroom door behind you, and when you did so, your back went against it. For some support to get back up on your two feet, and even then it felt like it was impossible.

Your heartbeat was racing, and your entire body was burning up in a blaze.

Out of precaution, your windows remained shut for the rest of the day. And you kept your face buried in your pillows, trying to process the sudden influx of emotions that you were feeling. Unfamiliar and few feelings that people usually feel way earlier in their lives, and yet here you were, early in your twenties. It was not your fault you wasted the majority of your college life on some guy whom you only kept around because you were too scared. Too scared to be left behind and forgotten, you just did not want to be lonely. Even if that meant surrounding yourself with people you knew didn't give a shit about you. It somehow worked in high school, so naturally you thought it'd work out in university.

And now, slightly more mature and a little more comfortable with your own company, you found a strange guy who made you feel strange things.

It was a strange day altogether. Since you offered to accompany your parents to the club without being pressured. Even they were caught off guard, but there was no way they were about to fumble this with snarky comments. They will save it to throw them at you later at dinner.

It was a pleasant Saturday; if you ignore everything that happened by your window, a perfect day to go out to brunch instead of your usual coffee and toast breakfast before bed rotting. And after the events that happened earlier, you needed to get out, feel the warm wind blowing right in your face, and maybe forget how embarrassing the whole exchange was, if you can even call it that.

“Oh goodness, fancy running into you guys!” Your mother suddenly spoke out, looking towards the door behind you.

A part of you was too busy and too delighted by the waffles in front of you to mind your mother's words. While the rest of you already knew who these people could possibly be. Even though you reassured yourself that the Geto family usually doesn't come here on Saturdays, you were still dreading the possibility. And here you were, stumped and with a mouth full of waffles, about to be embarrassed for the second time in a day in less than 12 hours. A new record!

Chimes of good mornings came from behind you, first in Mr. and Mrs. Geto’s voices, then Suguru's voice, and lastly a very cheerful greeting by the one person you did not want to see today. Everyone was chatting as usual as they took a seat at your table. You also said your greetings to them, trying to not make eye contact with Satoru at all costs, even when you could feel his eyes on you as he sat down directly opposite to you.

“What a rare sight to see Miss holed-up-in-her-room.” Mr. Geto jokes.

“These days even vampires need some sun.” As stupid as the joke was, Mr. Geto came down with a boisterous laugh. He has always been an easy audience to please, or maybe it's his bias towards you.

“You two and your stupid jokes.” Suguru grumbled beside you, never a big fan of your and his father's sense of humor.

The table fell into an easy conversation. You caught up a bit more with the Getos, as you didn't get to see them after lunch the other day. And your parents seemed more fascinated by Satoru. Honestly, it was surprising to see your parents having this much interest in an individual your age, other than Geto Suguru. What was weirder was how well Satoru just got along with them, talking about whatever nonsense that is the stock market and business. You presume that his family is some big-shit conglomerate, surely. He found common ground with your mother about his fascination for art, even going as far as naming her art pieces that are his favorites. What a strange, strange man.

You have had an array of people around you over the years—friends from school, college, and some neighborhood friends—and none of them ever got along with your parents this well, except for Geto Suguru. They couldn't stand your high school friends, they warned you about your college friends, and they never warmed up to your boyfriend. You never officially introduced him, just that they unfortunately visited at a time he was also dropping by. Maybe you were wrong; maybe even they picked up on how miserable you have been regardless of a shitty boyfriend or not, given how much they visited in the last 6 months.

And now that you are back here, at this noisy table, this feels alright. It felt like home, and it felt safe, around people you care about. With the addition of a man who just aroused weird feelings within you, weird and incomprehensible. But it was also just a summer; it'll pass, it'll be gone in mere weeks.

It was just a normal and nice Saturday brunch until you felt something creeping up on your legs. It didn't feel like an insect or something; it was distinctly the shape of someone's toes. And the only possible answer to who it might be was sitting right across from you. His face was turned towards your father, with his eyes occasionally drifting to the corners to take unnoticeable glances at you. The way one of his hands was placed on top of the table and his other was perched on top of the back of his chair—no one could suspect anything unusual about him or what he was doing right under this table.

“You ok?” Suguru asked, seeing how suddenly you froze up, occasionally twitching in your seat. His toes were trying to map out the plain field, which was your legs. They tangled themselves in the strap of your sandals, which wrapped around your ankle, pulling on them tentatively and snapping them right back lightly, but the sensation could only be described as so good.

“Yeah. Just tired.” Suguru didn't look like he bought your excuse, but he was never someone to get involved in your business if you didn't want him to, so he went back to the book he was reading. And who honestly does that at a busy table like this? Anyway,

As Satoru's foot glided upwards, from your shin to the side of your knees and right between where your legs crossed. To prevent any further invasion of his foot. Yet you could still feel his toes scraping against the skin over the front of your thighs. Trying to dip between the gap where your thighs pressed together. And it didn't really try to probe in between them, just going up and down there, teasing you, barely giving anything, with hints of everything lying thick in the air.

And it was frustrating to sit there and take it all and to not let your legs open up themselves willingly. What was more frustrating was just when your legs were about to fall apart and open up, after trembling on their own, pressed together, to aid the feeling pooling in the bottom of your stomach, he swiftly pulled away his foot.

All while talking to your parents like the most ideal man out there. Like he is not trying to get in between their daughter's legs. The audacity of this man really amazed you, looking at the smile on his face, it's impossible even for the gods to realize what a sinister man he is. And honestly, these are the people you always have made sure to stay away from; cunning and charming was not something you were equipped to deal with.

But that scheming smile and those side glances across from you, boy, were fun.

“What is wrong with you?” You managed to corner Satoru before heading home. Making up some dumb excuse about leaving behind your hat (which you didn't even wear) to catch him before he could get to the men's restroom. Let the others wait for the two of you, thinking you were busy doing your own thing, while here you were trying to interrogate Gojo Satoru.

“I would like to think everything is perfectly fine with me.” He simply smiled at you, with either of his hands on his hips.

“No, I know you are fine—I mean—that you are—you know that is not what I am talking about!” It was all utterly cringe-worthy, the way it slipped past your lips, making you wish to bury yourself.

“Yeah? Maybe I am more interested in talking about how fine you think I am.” He walked a step closer to you, making you take a step backwards.

“Don't twist my words.” You dig your index finger into his chest, somehow his hard yet supple chest. You take the step forward that you backed away from, but he did not budge from where he was standing.

“Why would I? I’m not the one playing games here now, am I?” Satoru's head tilted to the right, and his face dipped slightly downwards to look you properly in the eyes. And when you had no answers to give, was it that you were lost about what he was exactly asking or lost in his eyes? It cannot be said for sure which it was.

“So why did you ignore me this morning?” At first you were dumbfounded about what he was even talking about, then the embarrassing moment you had by your windows came crashing down on you.

“I—I don't know. What do you mean?” You did your best to look him in the eyes while also trying to lie through your teeth.

“I mean, when you were checking me out this morning and when I waved at you, you just ignored me!” His eyebrows frowned a bit, and his lips jutted in a pout. If you were not digging a mental hole to bury yourself out of embarrassment, then you'd have rather shamelessly just admired how adorable he looked.

“It's just that, I was—” “You were…?”

“I was looking at the car you were washing! Yeah! It didn't look like, uh, what the Getos drive, so... yeah.” You've made bad excuses before and lied like a pro even, yet in this moment you felt like a criminal trying to get away from being convicted.

“Uh huh? You liked my car then?” Satoru narrowed his eyes at you, and his hands, which remained on his hips this entire time, added to what his eyes were saying—liar. But you nodded a yes with a tight smile, and suddenly instead of interrogating him, you were the one being interrogated.

“What color was it?”

“Huh?”

“My car. What color was it?”

For the love of everything, you could not remember what the hell the color of his car was! Sure, he could've asked you what the color of his shorts was, or the logo on his tank top, that mole under his left eye, or the dip between his collarbones, or perhaps the exact hex code for the color of his eyes—but he had to go and ask you about that stupid-ass car.

You knew you were fucked, and he knew he had you cornered. For that one step you took forward a few seconds ago, you now had to take two steps back, while he took three steps forward. Your whole charade was up, and your petty crush on your childhood friend's best friend was about to be aired out, and you were about to be embarrassed into the ground. You were sure this is it, but thank God for Geto Suguru, for once in your life, maybe. Your true angel in disguise!

“Oi! What’s taking you two so long?” Suguru asked while walking towards you two through the hallway, at the end of which you were being interrogated by Gojo Satoru.

“Oh! Satoru got lost, so I was helping him! It’s fine now. Let's go!” You enthusiastically said while walking towards Suguru in a hurry. Because if you spent another second around Satoru, you'd lose your mind.

You pushed Suguru’s back to make him walk away from the hallway, because another second here and he would start interrogating as well. So you pushed a reluctant and suspicious Suguru from behind, leaving a disappointed Satoru to follow your two’s lead outside. And mumbled to himself while looking at your back—

liar.

Since then, you did your best to avert the topic of conversation whenever Satoru tried to bring up your wandering eyes. Being in his close proximity was hard, especially when Suguru was not there. So you made sure he was always there when you were getting involved with Satoru. And yet there were always these moments that made you remember why you sometimes just cannot stand Suguru and his audacity.

“Y’wanna go to Lewis’ party this Saturday?” Suguru casually raised the question while still looking at his phone. Ignoring whatever silly flirting you and Satoru were doing, mostly him looking at you with heart eyes and you getting red like a beet at his little comments here and there. The horrible summer sun was already in the middle of the sky, and the tennis court itself felt like a frying pan.

So here you three were, drenched in sweat and clad in shorts and loose shirts, sitting under the apricot tree near the tennis court, pressed between the two men. The same tree under which you found Satoru, made assumptions in your head, and dubbed him as a hot new cart driver.

“He still does those?” You looked at Suguru while ignoring Satoru’s finger poking your cheek from your other side.

“Yeah, he still does, every summer. The dedication of that guy.” Suguru scoffed to himself and finally put his phone down to look at you after quickly throwing Satoru a side eye.

“Who is this guy?” Satoru’s head suddenly was right beside yours; his body was basically leaning into yours.

“Just some guy we went to school with; he throws these big parties every summer. He can be pretty douchey, though.” Suguru paused a second to think to himself before looking between you two and continuing with a smirk.

“Yeah, and this hotshot here dated him in high school.” Suguru’s hand landed on top of your head, slightly shaking it and patting it. And your own hands went to his wrist to shove it off you with a scoff.

“Oh please, it was like 5 months or less.” You rolled your eyes while leaning away from Suguru's hands; they can mess anyone up easily. “And it was nothing. Just some stupid summer fling.”

You looked over at Satoru briefly to gauge his reaction while simultaneously trying to ignore Suguru's teasing. It was honestly never the best idea to date the local party thrower; it meant everyone was up in your business. It was rough after the breakup, because not only did random people come up to you asking questions and being rude, but Lewis chased you around for another two weeks persistently. Thankfully he never had the best attention span.

You looked at Satoru with eyes that said, ‘please do not think I have bad taste!’

It was a lot to ask of Satoru when he did not even know the guy, and you did not know why you felt like you had to justify anything. After all, aren't you two just friends through a mutual connection? It did not feel right to watch Satoru stare at you and Suguru with a blank face while Suguru teased you about some stupid high school ex. But it also didn't feel right for Satoru to feel this bubbling jealousy within him, hearing about your old relationship with this guy you might potentially see tonight, whom you've known longer than you've known him.

“No, I get it. Sounds like a fun guy, huh?” Satoru's tone from earlier flattened just a notch. Not really noticeable to most people, but you and Suguru knew. You've known Satoru for barely a week and a half, and you've come to notice little changes in his voice almost the same way Suguru can notice them. The difference is, you use them as a cue to change topics to something that'll lift his spirits, while Suguru doubles down on things.

“Oh, the most fun guy ever! He threw gummy bears in his pool and timed himself on how fast he could fish out as many of them using just his mouth.” Suguru’s back went against the tree bark in a fit of laughter with a thud, remembering exactly what finally gave you the ick to break up with him. A mouthful of pool water and half-chewed gummies.

“Yeah, I am going to sit this one out. You guys have fun.” You rolled your eyes at Suguru, who was still laughing like a maniac, and stood up while dusting off your skirt.

“Huh, why? ‘ Cause he might try to smooch you with a mouth full of gummies and pool water again?” And Suguru was back to laughing like it could be a threat to his lungs.

Without any more words, because there were none to defend yourself for dating a frat guy and expecting an intellectual and respectable relationship out of it. You walked away after waving Satoru a goodbye and ignoring Suguru, who was by that point on the grass, tired from giving himself a one-man comedy show.

“She was looking forward to going out this weekend. Do you think she'll be ok?” Satoru asked Suguru while his eyes were trained on you walking on the grass.

“Yeah. She will be fine.” Suguru knew you better than him, so Satoru should barely doubt his words, but he couldn't help but needlessly worry when you didn't even look much bothered about the party other than the fact that Suguru just outed your dating history.

“If she's not, you can always check on her.” Suguru stood up and, similarly to you, dusted his shorts before extending an arm towards him.

Satoru did not say anything more to that, just grabbed onto his hand and stood back up on his feet. There was a silent understanding in the air that Suguru knew whatever Satoru was feeling. Suguru’s hand went up to his shoulder and placed itself there with a sharp slap. Satoru looked to his right and saw Suguru's eyes sharp and unforgiving, not his usual sly, half-smiling, kind eyes.

“If you do anything stupid or hurt her, it's on sight.” Satoru let out a wheezing laugh and placed his own hand on Suguru's shoulder while looking him in the eye.

“You got it.”

That's all they needed to speak on this. Any more, and Suguru would punch him square in the jaw unprovoked. It was not that Suguru was expecting him to sweep you off your feet or anything, and he knew Satoru was far from some prince charming. But he respects you two and trusts you, and despite his lifelong protective urges towards you, you were now a grown adult who was more than capable of making her own decisions, and he wanted to respect that. As long as Satoru didn't do anything stupid. Like that recent ex of yours, because when you go back on campus after the vacation, you might hear a thing or two about his fucked-up face or a neck collar.

Not that it had anything to do with Suguru, surely.

In the blink of your eyes, almost three weeks have gone by since you came back here. And two weeks since you met Gojo Satoru.

It was already Saturday night, and you were rotting in your bed as usual, trying to forget about the party that you truly had no will to go to. But somehow you could not help but let your mind wander there. Wondering how many people showed up, whether Suguru and Satoru were having a good time, and if Satoru found someone other than Suguru to talk to there. Which you assume he definitely did; he practically befriended everyone on your street, he is a favorite of the retired people at the country club, and he just blended right in with everyone.

It was one of those few summers you will be looking back at with a fond smile. All the parties you three crashed, all the nights you snuck away to the beach in Satoru’s off-white Maserati, all that weed you three burnt away in your room, the day when Suguru was cleaning up the garage and found the little inflatable pool in which you two used to play. It was hilarious for everyone to see three fully grown kids smooshed up in a little kids’ pool, splashing water at each other.

You have come to love the little watermelon plant that spontaneously shot up from the ground in your backyard, exactly where you three were shooting watermelon seeds with your mouths to see who could get the furthest. You got the flimsy little plant a support stake and made sure to water it every day because you did not want it to wither away in this summer heat.

Speaking of the summer heat, it seemed as though the weather started getting hotter from last night. When usually things cooled down after the sun set, everything your skin touched was sweating if the air conditioner was not on. And given the occasion tonight, you figured it was best to spend the entire Saturday at home. In the comfort of your bedroom, behind locked windows and doors, with the only source of light and noise being your laptop.

That was until the wind outside your windows started picking up. It made you feel some relief that it was not going to be a streak of horrible hot days.

The wind swung by your windows, making swishing noises and rattling the glass doors to your balcony. It made you want to shift your focus from the mind-numbing show playing on your screen to whatever that was going on outside. The swinging trees, sharp wind, dark red hued clouds in the night sky, Satoru trying to climb over your balcony railing, spark of lightning and faint sound of thunder-

Oh, wait, let's backtrack. Did you just see that correctly? Was Gojo Satoru trying to climb into your balcony? Because who else could be in that baby blue cotton shirt and bouncy tuft of white hair?

You rushed out of your bed, in your short shorts and tank top, probably as old as the eye bags that started to form under your eyes when you got into university. But you could not bother about that, or the crumbs of chips all over your top, and your unkempt and unbrushed hair. You just needed to get to Satoru in time before his wobbling body fell from your balcony and broke some bones in his body.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” You grabbed onto his hand and pulled him towards you, then helped him jump over your balcony railings.

“Climbing your tower, Rapunzel. Even though your hair looks more like a bird's nest than a rope.” He flashed you the whole set of his teeth at the end of his joke. Teasing you, trying to elicit a response out of you, as always.

“I will throw you off my balcony.” You deadpanned in return, ready to push him off, with your hands on his chest, pushing him ever so lightly to not actually make him lose his balance on the edge. He flew to catch yours and held onto them as he erupted into giggles, and the wind blew by his hair, getting it all over his eyes and face. And yet he still looked effortlessly gorgeous, as if that's exactly how it was supposed to look.

“Ok, ok, I just came here ‘cause I got bored at that party; the gummy bear guy lost his edge. It was just people pretentiously gathering around the pool and going, ‘Oh! Are you studying there? I am going here!’ and Suguru fled with some girl, so here I am.” Satoru sat down on the floor of your balcony, with his back against the railing. And pulled you down to sit right in front of him, facing him, with hands still held in his.

“Also just missed ‘ya.” He said it with such ease and nonchalance, like it was the most obvious answer. It was just a simple little line that crossed more lines between you two than anything, boundaries that must exist in a friendship. All just gradually blurring out of existence.

“Y’wanna go to the pool?” He says to break your train of thought to get rid of the questions and silence in the air.

“You were just complaining about people gathering around a pool.”

“So? It was more of a critique of the crowd than the pool; the poor pool has seen some things—leave it alone!”

At this point your hands, which were in his grip, were forgotten. It was like the most natural thing. It feels as natural as pushing your glasses up on your head and forgetting about them.

“Ok, ok, but you want to swim in our pool in this weather? Also, I don't know when my parents last got it cleaned.” Since you came back, you've never once used that thing, and you were never exactly there to see when your parents’ pool boy came around to clean it.

“Not your pool, silly!” He bounced your hands with his, making a ripple of movement in your entire upper body. “Then?” “I meant the one at the club.”

You just blinked and watched him. With a smile on his face, he did not look one bit hesitant about his suggestion. And honestly, his idea made you want to rather check out how clean or not your pool is instead of trespassing on the property where your family was a regular.

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that without turning on alarms?”

“I know the security code.” Your narrowed eyes did not look convinced with his answer.

“How even—” “I play billiards with the general manager.” It did make sense for a social butterfly like Satoru himself to befriend the most terrifying guy in the entire club. The general manager was quite the grump; he was a nice old man. He helped you out of the pool once when you almost drowned because you wanted to join your then high school friends instead of being upfront about not knowing how to swim. The general manager later, when you seemed stable enough, scolded you while drying off your hair with a towel.

“That old man who is always annoyed at every living, breathing thing?”

“Yep. He said, I remind him of his late husband!” Which wasn't far off the mark; the general manager’s husband recently passed away from what you heard from our parents, leaving him to be more annoyed at everything. And Satoru had a similar, blasé positive energy radiating off of him.

“So you seduced him!?” You jokingly said before pulling your hands out of his and moving to sit beside him, similar to him, with your back to the railing, knees under your chin, and thighs close to your chest.

“Nope. The only person I am trying to seduce is you.” Satoru’s head tilted to the side, and he kept looking at you. Recently, since he caught you checking him out while he was washing his car, his words and actions towards you have gotten bolder.

“Well….you should try harder.” You tried to lighten the tension in the air, which was now at least two or three degrees colder and felt suffocatingly hot, until he spoke up, still staring right into your eyes, with a faint trace of a smile on his lips, “I will.”

There was nothing more left to say after what he said, nothing, not even a joke to retaliate against the frustrating tension hanging heavy between you, making it impossible for you to breathe normally around Satoru.

“So! You're coming with me, or should I kidnap you?” You wish you could say no, but there was no refusing Gojo Satoru; that much you've learned about him clearly in these last couple of weeks.

As you looked out of the glass of the front window, exactly where the headlights of Satoru's car fell, on the side gate of the country club, only accessible by the employees. And yet here you were, getting dragged out of the soft leather seat of the car to sneak through that door with Satoru. Follow his steps closely from behind as he leads you to the pool by dragging you by your hand.

Without any word, Satoru let go of your hand once you two stepped on the paved concrete around the pool. Going straight to strip down to his boxers, his back muscles flexed with each step he took towards the pool. And some of the cold water in the pool splashed on you as he dived inside.

“You comin’ or what?” Satoru then intentionally splashed some water your way, absolutely drenched in the chloride-smelling water.

“This is as far as I go.” You walked up to the edge of the pool and sat down with your legs in the water. It made you flinch at first, surprising you how quickly the water cooled down since the sun set. The water started to feel nicer around your skin as you watched Satoru do several laps in the water.

He looked magnificent. One second he was at one end of the pool, and in the blink of an eye he was on the other side. It was easy to lose sight of him; he used the water to his advantage like a pro, which made you wonder if he did swimming back in school. How else was he able to hold his breath underwater so long that it had you worried enough to not notice his silhouette coming up to your legs and dragging you in the water?

“What are you—” You would have slapped his hands instantly off of your thighs if you knew what he was actually up to when they slithered up on them. Instead you were now in the cold chloride water, in Gojo Satoru's arms, trying to grab onto his shoulder and locking your legs around his waist.

It took you a few good minutes to acclimate yourself. With the cold water, and the feeling of drenched shorts and shirt, and especially the feeling that came from being in his arms. You could feel his body radiating heat even in the cold water and the vibrations that rumbled in his chest from laughing at the state of you, a clueless cat thrown off-guard in water.

“You, you're so dead.” His laughs only became deeper at your threats, and his arms tightened around your waist.

“Oh, c’mon, a little water never did anyone harm.” Satoru finally stopped laughing and just smiled at you; his gaze could not remain just on your eyes—they wavered. His pretty blue eyes scaled your face as if he were an archaeologist who just found a new artifact.

And under the scrutiny of his eyes, you could not continue the banter. It was agonizing to have the little 3-inch gap between you two; it felt more like 3 miles. So you couldn't help but close that distance. Satoru had similar ideas, as he met you halfway through.

His lips were everything and more that you ever imagined and dreamed of.

They were soft, and they tasted faintly of those fruit candies he always crunched on: oranges, strawberries, lemons, and pineapples. And overall he oddly tasted of summer. Like the embodiment of everything you ever wanted from an ideal summer. As his lips slotted themselves with yours with more assurance after the first few pecks to measure the boundaries he could step on, you could feel the giddy tingles back in your stomach, shivers that prickled the back of your nape and ran down your spine, when his tongue pushed against yours.

The hand that crept from your waist to your ass and pushed you up in his arms, your arms tightened around his neck, and one of your own hands went up his nape to his hair, the ends of which were now drenched in the pool water. And you wondered how you've been living without this, without kissing him silly the very day you met him, light tan and sweat covering his body, and just a cap to shield his eyes from the glaring sun.

“Hey! Is someone there!?”

You pushed away from him in a snap when the voice reached your ears. You had to push Satoru away by his shoulders to stop him from chasing your lips from the lack of their warmth on his.

When the guard blew on his whistle, that's when his eyebrows shot up. You placed your index finger on his lips as you saw them part so his voice wouldn't confirm the security guard's suspicions. And he nodded his head once to let you know he won't.

In a swift few seconds, Satoru swam to the edge of the pool, with you now in both of his arms, like a princess he needed to cradle close to his heart to keep her safe—you found it silly. The platform in the pool on which he was standing was barely five and a half feet deeper than the surface of the water. It was absolutely possible for you to walk to the edge by yourself, but you liked being in his arms. Even if the wiser thing to do in this situation would've been to separately make a run for it.

Once you two were out of the pool, he grabbed onto your hand in one hand, took both of your shoes in another, and his clothes under his armpit, and then made a run for it. You both ran barefoot on the concrete and crushed the dewy grass under your feet.

“HEY! YOU TWO! STOP RIGHT THERE!” The guard tried to shine his flashlight on you two.

“Don't turn around.” Satoru said while dragging you two towards the main entrance, avoiding the pebble path, and instead running across the prohibited grass fields.

It was the most invigorating rush you've felt in years.

Satoru did not stop his car until he was far enough from the country club. He parked his car by the riverbank, turned off his engine, and finally lay back in his seat with an exasperated sigh. You two sat staring ahead towards the river, then towards your sides, when your eyes landed on each other, and neither of you could hold back your laughter.

It was the most natural thing to be here with him, in your drenched clothes, him in his boxers, in his expensive-ass car, laughing like you two did not just commit a crime, one moment; and in the next moment you're on his lap and kissing him hungrily.

It was so good.

There was something about the cramped space, especially how his car was built; there was even less space compared to other cars—something that you usually get annoyed at, especially when you end up in the excuse of a backseat because of Suguru and his stupid long legs, but this time around you did not mind it.

You did not mind when his hands roamed up your back, hot and dry, a clear contrast to your wet and soggy clothes. It felt like everything had slowed down, from the cars on the road down to the gravity, and it was just you and him, against each other, lips slotted together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle, tongues exploring every little crevice in your mouths, and hands all over one another. You could feel his cock growing under you in his soggy boxers, incentivizing you to move your hips in a slow rhythm. He wasn't even sure anymore if it was wet from the water or just his precum. You could not take your hands off his shoulders nor out of his hair, and he could not take his hands off your ass and hips. It was addictive, and in the humidity of the summer night, it was more than enough to drive you crazy.

Desperate to feel more of him, more of his skin, you tried to take off your t-shirt while still kissing him, reluctant to take your lips off of his, even just for a second.

“Wait, sweets-wait.” He spoke in between your lips and pushed himself away from you. Without any explanation, he opened the doors on his side and went out of the car and pulled you out as well.

He haphazardly opened his back backdoor, pushed his front seat forward to make more room for the two of you, and lightly pushed on your lower back to make you get inside. Which you did, and finally took off everything on your upper body, then laid down on the seat and held yourself by your elbows, waiting for him to get in as well.

“Get in here.” You asked him, as you moved forward, to pull him inside the car by his neck, and your lips were back on each other. Your hands traced the shape of his cock over his boxers, and you tried to take off his boxers and slip your hands inside.

“Uh-uh, you first, sweets.” You didn't really understand what he meant by that; you just stared at his pretty smile and trusted whatever he wanted to do. But you couldn't have guessed what he did next. His right hand grabbed the back of your knees, and his other hand was on the seat for support. With flawless movements, your back was flat against his car seat, and he was in between your legs.

He started from your temples, soft lingering kisses on your eyes, the tip of your nose, a peck on your lips, and on your jaw. Then he went on to suck and bite all around your neck, with every intention to leave marks visible to anyone who tried to stare at you longer than ten seconds, which was generous in his opinion.

“I've been itching to get my hands on these pretty things.” His hands got a hold of your tits, squeezing them, fingers teasing one nipple while the other felt salient attention from his mouth. As his mouth swirled around your areolas, and his teeth bit down and pulled on your nipples while maintaining clear eye contact with you, you could feel the wetness between your legs dripping down your slit.

“Ugh—Satoru, ah, fuck.” You didn't really have anything to add, other than the moans and grunts that left your mouth. And his hands remained on your hips, rubbing up and down in soothing movements, as his lips continued to kiss downward once he had his fill of teasing your tits and was satisfied with the amount of marks he left behind on each mound and the valley in between them. A true scenic masterpiece in his opinion.

He stopped right above the waistband of your shorts before pulling them down with careful and calculated movements until you lay bare before his eyes. “Hah. No panties, huh?” He placed his mouth above your pelvic bone, right before your clit, and you could feel his mouth stretching into that very familiar devious smile on your skin.

“Sato—”

Your words remained in your mouth, and instead you let out a sharp yelp as his tongue took a long strip of lick from under your navel down to your clit. It was an awkward position to be stuck in, half bent, back almost hitting the ceiling of his car, one knee on the floor of his car, between his legs, and his foot was pressed against the door. But nothing bothered him more than the lack of your taste on his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You kept on chanting as your hands went to get a tight grip in your hair, almost pulling out a patch of white pearly hair, as his tongue continued to swirl around your clit. And the hands around your hips moved down to your thighs as they tightened around his head, holding a deathly grip around them but doing nothing to loosen them, probably digging his nails deep enough to leave marks and broken skin.

“Oh, I've fucking dreamed of dying between these pretty things. Fuck. Do your worst, baby.”

You wish you were the one wrecking him, even if he insisted he was the one blissed right out of his mind, between your legs, tongue teasing your pussy lips. One look at your face and anyone could tell who was absolutely fucked here. There was nothing imploring about how he dove right in like a starved man at your mercy. His teeth pulled your lips open to lick a long and anguished strip down from your clit to your now twitching hole. And in went his tongue.

Burning hotter than the summer sun, you were a puddle on his lips, like a melting popsicle.

“Sht—shit, shit. Ugh, ah, AH!”

Each one of your moans was returned with the vibration of his own grunts and moans, which ran through your core, making it worse for you to hold onto any semblance of sanity that remained intact. And it was hard to do that when his left hand was kneading your abdomen, and his thumb was rubbing away on your clit, and his right hand was digging into your thighs, pulling them up on his shoulder, all the while his lips sucked away every drop of arousal your cunt dripped, and his tongue poked around your walls.

“Please, Satoru, just—just please, want—no, need you inside.” You took one of your hands from where it was in his hair, which was now almost dry, and placed it on top of his hand on your abdomen. And without even moving his face, his fingers intertwined with yours and held onto them for his dear life as he finished giving you the first of the many orgasms for tonight.

“FUCK, Sat— AH, ah.” And you had nothing more than broken moans and words stuck in your throat to let out.

It was only when he was done lapping up everything with nimble licks that his hand let go of yours, which was shaking and almost numb. “Not just yet, sweets; gotta stretch you out properly.”

And the fingers that were just tangled with yours were now inside you. You were simply so out of it that you didn't even realize when his tongue got replaced with his finger, one at first, slowly mapping out the shape and ridges of your walls from within. Then two more to stretch you out well enough to accommodate him.

“There!” Your eyes rolled back in your head, and your head went back as his fingers found that one spot that almost drove you right over the edge in mere seconds.

“Here?” His head tilted as he pulled his fingers halfway out, teasing you even in this state, and saying things like he was the pitiful one in this equation. What a liar.

“Satoru, for fuck's sake!” Your hands flew to cover your eyes as your back arched off of the car seat; if it weren't for his right hand and shoulder holding you down, you would've probably fallen off.

“You surely know how to ask nicely for what you y’want.” You could see him smiling like a little shit between your legs when you took your hands off your eyes and instead dug your nails into his expensive car seat. Not like he minded.

“Will you just let me cum, Satoru?” Your tone was faux sweet, wavering at the mercy of his fingers turning inside of you.

“I need you to beg properly, baby.”

Satoru’s instructions came out as a matter-of-fact; his smile disappeared and left behind the piercing cerulean eyes, boring into your soul.

“Pleas—please, please, Satoru, let me cum.” Never in your life have you ever begged for anything like this; this was a first, and you could not be more glad that it was Gojo Satoru in between your legs, eliciting these embarrassing sides of you, instead of someone else.

And his smile returned to his face, and his fingers went right to work. It took him no more than two minutes to have you come undone on his fingers for the second time since you two ended up in his car. And there was nothing but exasperated breathing in the air, which Satoru assumed was probably more humid than the air outside, when he saw the windows fogged up. It made him chuckle to himself, thinking how cliché this was. But given the state he has gotten you in, he can't waste any more time before you pass out from just two orgasms. So he sat up and got rid of his underwear, finally feeling less suffocated.

“Don't have any condoms, sweets.” Satoru caressed the side of your face, making sure you didn't already pass out. He had no intention of pressuring you into anything; one word and he is cleaning you up, getting you some water, and driving you home to tuck you in your bed and cuddle you to sleep.

“Don't fucking care…… on birth control.” He chuckled at your scrambling and slurred words before he maneuvered you so that one of your legs was on his shoulder and the other was over his thigh, around his waist. He rubbed the head of his cock in your folds, getting whatever leftover juices that he could not lick clean all over his cock.

“WILL YOU JUST GET INSIDE?” You could not just tolerate any more of his teasing, so you had to take things into your own hands. Literally, as you moved one hand between the both of you and pushed his tip inside you, that was enough to have you flat on your back, unable to initiate anything else. Satoru also leaned forward from the sudden sensation of your slippery warm walls.

“Ah, fuck, don't rush it, sweets.” His whimpering was not helping you any more than the burning stretch you felt from just his tip. And he could tell from how your mouth fell open and the nails that dug into his seats harder than before. So he gave the both of you a second to adjust. It was no easy job to acclimate to the heat that you offered; it was dizzying, but he welcomed this heat over the burning sun.

“I’m goin’ in.” It was only after you gave him a late nod that he pushed the rest of him inside of you. And both of your yelps and grunts remained in the car. But surely if someone passed by, either one of your moans was enough to make them figure out the obvious.

Once he was inside, you assumed the never-ending dizziness that you felt around him, the rush of accidental touches, and heavy breaths—it'll all come to an end. Unfortunately, nothing really stopped; instead, there was something worse, something hotter and more imprudent between you two now. Each thrust of his hips and the kisses that he placed on your legs: everything was incinerating. And you wanted it all; it didn't matter if it was forever or a week, you needed this summer to never end.

“Ah—so good, sweets, so good to me.” Satoru kept on placing kisses around your shin, your ankle, and your knees, even leaning slightly down to bite down on your thighs. While his other hand pushed down on your abdomen, you felt his cock going in and out of you, and it was all so surreal—the warmth of your walls, your drooling mouth, the whimpers that left your throat, and those glazed eyes that refused to look away from him. And he didn't want this moment to ever end; he didn't want to pretend like every passing touch of your skin didn't burn him alive, that he could live on from here on forward without having you in his grasp.

“I, I’m coming, ‘toru.”

“Fuck, sweets—come with me. Please.”

He dropped your leg on the seat and pulled you on his lap, even while he still remained buried within you. In those last few minutes, he didn't move his hips with the same fervor as before; you two just grinned at each other, chasing your highs, the rush of having each other all to yourselves. With his face buried in your neck, kissing everywhere, down from the column of your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips, his arms around you tightened. And your nails dug into his shoulders as your tongues tangled with one another again, and this time you could taste the remnants of yourself in his mouth. As you both broke away from the kiss, with a single string of aliga connecting you two, all it took was one look for the both of you to come simultaneously.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, sweets.”

“I know—I know, Satoru.”

And you two came together, holding onto each other for your dear lives, kissing one another into some other worldly ecstasy. You could feel his cum shooting up and pooling inside of you, and he could feel you twitching in his arms, your walls tightening, getting warmer with his cum dripping down and slipping out between you two. It took a while for you to come down from the high, and yet neither of you was willing to let go.

“Are you ok, sweets?” He asked while placing feather-light kisses on your shoulders while nudging your head slightly that remained steady on his shoulder.

“Mmhmm.” You did not have anything in you to utter a single comprehensible sentence. And Satoru knew that well enough to not push you any more; he chuckled to himself and let himself enjoy your company like this for a little longer. And he told himself a few minutes more, and then he'll properly clean you up and take you home.

While you drifted away into sleep, with a matching smile on your face, you told yourself how different this summer has been. And how, despite the disgusting heat and humidity, you never wanted this summer to end. To have one another in your arms, with reciprocity, and with the same rush that made your head silly that day you met—it was so good.

And you wanted the best out of this summer.

FIND MORE OF MY WORKS HERE

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources. pictures from Pinterest, art by @/m0ryy

lmao ik i have two big wips in the works rn but lol when i saw moryy's art my mind just suddenly flooded with this plot and i was already singing rush by Troye Sivan in my head for the last few days lol ok and i have like 4 exams tmr bye i gotta cry and study.

#happy almost back to school #here is your last bit of summer

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baepsays · 4 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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