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hell link

summary: unable to take being the victim of school violence at the hands of a male classmate, you turn to the forces of hell to solve all your problems. though, payment for the assistance of a demon is steep.

cws: kinktober, female reader, fem reader, smut. vaginal sex, anal sex, just one finger and it's brief, fingering, overstimulation, loads of overstim, revenge, mentions of bullying, implied/referenced sexual assault, none of it's graphic at all though, choking, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, deals with demons, pet names, dumbification, dacryphilia, sadism, sexism, i think?, he says some mean things about women, its hot though i swear, religious imagery, corruption, making out, murder, but not graphically detailed because my conscience told me to cut the gore and focus on the smut, cum eating, begging, master kink, also mentioned just once, cum marking, possessive sex, possession, toxicity, brutal sex, can't stress that enough, multiple rounds, demon gojo, demon summoning, might've missed like a couple tags but that's about it, wc: ~ 3k

a/n: this might get taken down actually. i started writing kind of brutally when i went on break from this app so idkkk. this is another kinktober fic from last october that i didn't post on here! i remember writing this when i started s2 of hell girl. i never talk about hell girl on here whyyy 😭 it's so good. it's my number one favorite anime but it's retro so nobody on the planet knows it exists but it's a 10/10 for me pls check it out. that anime is the entire framing device for this fic pleaseeee go check it out! this version is cut slightly different from the version on ao3 for the sake of censoring

a/n2: i'm super proud of this fic actually i hated it when i wrote it bc it was really just an experiment but i reread it while i was formatting this post and i think i might write another one like it using hell girl as the framing device if this does okay :)

again, just going to use my old jjk tag. let me know if you don't want to to be tagged plsss! tags: @ekaterinatepes @dellalyra @sunaishotsstuff @ravereina @tojishugetiddies @i-literally-cant-with-this @thecookiebratz @chocoyanchan @hinata7346 @r0ckst4rjk @d4ddies-wh0re @ploylulla @etlftl @doestalker @jottositto @missphanosaur18 @darkstarlight82 @xocherishxo @sousblogga @xukoii @viisgrave @iminlovewqr0w @sheluvzeren @prettymoonlightsworld @anubisisthebomb @hannas16

art creds to PandaZhangM on X ♡

Rain thrums against your bedroom window. The hum of the air conditioner breaks up the silence between your slowing sobs. The cold water drips from your hair and soaks through your clothes. You heave desperate breaths as you type in each character of your classmate's name. You sob as you remember the events that took place after classes today. The fresh bruises are starting to take random shapes on your skin, blooming in painful dark patches. Your eyes dart to the right corner of your computer screen every few seconds as you wait for the small white digits to turn over. 11:59 PM. Almost time. You can’t edge off the panic surging through your body despite knowing that you’re the one in full control of this situation.

A few more seconds pass by and it isn’t quite Midnight yet. You take that as an opportunity to think this through. You know this isn’t right. You could just tell someone. There are plenty of people in your life that you trust. You could tell your parents or a teacher... a friend. Anyone. That should be your first decision. You don’t know if any of them would believe you about this though. You run a tentative thumb over a bruise on your collarbone, accompanied by bite marks., and wince at the pain that washes over you. He’s gone too far tonight and he’s only going to go farther with you from here on out. You don’t want to be his victim anymore.

Between your legs throbs with pain and you feel blood and rainwater drip down your body, chilling you to the bone. You ignore the icy coursing through your veins when you see that midnight has come. Fuck it. You click enter and watch as the all-white screen goes black, pixels forming the shape of a flurry of flames takes over and burns Mako’s first and last name right before your eyes. Before you have a moment to puzzle out the symbolism between the graphics on your computer and what the site promises to anyone who could ever access it, the chilled air in your bedroom freezes. It grows heavy and thick with the arrival of another presence.

You turn to the other side of your bedroom hurriedly to find a figure perched on your bed; long limbs splayed out as if the new person has made themselves at home. Thunder accompanies the visitor. His aura is sinister and demands your attention. He materializes out of thin air, as if he was blown into your bedroom by the rainstorm going on outside. When Satoru finds himself pulled by forces beyond his control out of his realm and into your bedroom, he finds that it’s nearly ice cold in the room. You shiver in the harsh hair, lips shut tight as you stare at the stranger that’s just come out of nowhere. The bedroom is dark; besides the glow of the computer, you clearly just used to summon him.

You don’t startle at his sudden appearance the way that most humans he encounters do. He observes you. Tears stream down your face and your eyelids are positively swollen with them. You wear a disheveled student uniform, a white button up shirt, undone necktie, and a skirt that just barely covers your shivering knees. Your eyes hold a ferocity, an intensity, as if he’s just stumbled upon a woman emerging as the victor of some kind of brawl. His inhuman eyes can easily make out the swelling blotches and bite marks on your abused skin. You look like someone’s really beaten the hell out of you, and then some. “You’ve summoned me,” His voice breaks out in a bored monotone, reciting his usual spiel from rattling off countless times for thousands of years. “My name is Satoru.” He holds out an empty hand to you and a black straw doll materializes from thin air. “This is for you.” He holds it out for you to take.

You wipe a stray tear away, bothered by the ticklish feeling of it gliding down your face so slowly. “What is this?” Your voice comes out cracked and you sniffle, making you sound so weak and broken but Gojo thinks you may be quite the opposite. He’s having a hard time pinning down what type of girl you are though. Just give him some time. Before he parts his lips to answer you, you take the doll he’s offering you. The material is rough in your palm, but you clutch it with bruised knuckles anyway.

The Hell Link or Hell Correspondence promises vengeance to its users but only to those who have genuine hatred burning in their hearts and only to those who are experiencing pain or suffering at the hands of someone in their lives. It promises to exact revenge on the person’s whose name you enter into the site and it’s all that you want. You don’t want to play games or play with dolls with a demon like this. You are suffering. And it has to end here. He watches you carefully, noticing the way your eyes widen in wonder as the straw doll appears in his hand. Your brows furrow together, trying to understand what exactly he’s just given to you. The doll is rather simple, made of coarse straw, painted black, and adorned with a single scarlet thread around its neck. Despite its plain appearance, there’s an undeniable aura of power emanating from the small object.

As you take the doll from his hand, your fingers brush against his, and a jolt of electricity seems to pass between you. The demon’s eyes twitch slightly at the contact. It happens all the time, a slight brush between him and the living and it always feels like something, but he can never put a name to the emotion. It’s been centuries since he died. Emotions aren’t exactly his forte anymore. But he knows the name of this one. He knows the name of the emotion you remind him of. He’s surprised by the intensity of the sensation. He quickly composes himself, his expression returning to its usual neutral mask.

Beneath the surface, something has shifted within him. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s a flicker of recognition, a sense of familiarity that he can’t quite shake. It’s as if he’s known you before, in another life perhaps, whenever he was alive. The thought lingers in the back of his mind, tantalizing and elusive. You don’t find him daunting either, which is new. Once or twice, he comes across a human that’s overly excited to be face to handsome face with a creature like him but you’re practically bursting with feeling. For now, though, his focus is on the task at hand. The contract between you and him is a serious matter, one that he doesn’t take too lightly. The last thing he wants is to hear anyone’s mouth about him slacking off on his work again.

As a creature of hell, he’s seen countless souls like yours torn apart by hatred and despair, and he knows all too well the depths of human suffering. But there’s something different about you, something that sets you apart from any of the others. Satoru can sense the rage burning within you, the desperation for some sort of justice that's consuming your every waking moment. He knows this story too well. He knows how you creatures like to tear each other apart, taking and taking from each other until you drive one another to do things like summon demons and call it justice. “It’s a covenant.” He explains it, that usual spiel of blah blah blah that he spouts out about how, if you pull the thread, he’ll ferry the soul of your tormenter straight into the depths of hell.

You nod at his words, exactly what you want from him. You want Mako burning in hell for what he’s done to you. It’s the only way you’ll ever regain your dignity. “But be aware that once his soul is dealt with, you’ll have to pay your end of the bargain.” His tone wavers as your eyes leave the doll and look back at him.

“My end?” You question. You give the demon that you’ve summoned a skeptical look. You study Satoru and the smirk that takes over his expression. He tuts at your naivety. How very on brand for a feeble little human, expecting to receive something for nothing in return, summoning demons with no knowledge of how deals work.

Satoru further reclines on your fluffy pink duvet and pushes a long finger along the bridge of his nose to push his dark glasses up. He peers at you from behind the rim, blue eyes glowing fiercely. Gojo chuckles at your question, a sound that’s both amused and slightly exasperated; as if he hasn’t done it in some time. He shakes his head, a gesture that’s meant to convey his disbelief at how naive you are.

“Don’t be dumb, little doll. There always has to be a price.” Though, Satoru thinks you’re cute enough to get things for free if you want. Your skeptical look grows, doesn’t change for even a second. As he speaks, his voice is low and smooth, like velvet draped over steel. He has your full attention and savors the moment before he delivers the news that you’re not going to be thrilled about. “So, once I’ve taken care of this Mako guy for you, you’ll have to pay me off. With your own precious soul.”

He sees the fire in your eyes continue burning brightly, threatening to consume you entirely, and he knows that he has the power to either fuel that flame or extinguish it entirely. Satoru can see the pain you’ve been caused, can see the bruises, the way that you limp from one leg to the other as if standing before him is hurting you in some way. He can see that you’re scorned. He looks at your eyes, can’t help but feel a flicker of understanding. “But not right away, of course. Not until you die naturally.” He’s seen too much of the world, too much of the cruelty that humans can inflict upon one another. And he knows that sometimes the only way to break free from that cycle is to embrace the darkness within oneself.

You’re not the first to be caught off guard by the terms of his deal and you certainly won’t be the last. A soul for a soul. Never a soul for nothing at all though. His soul for your soul. There’s something about the way you look at him, the mix of fear and defiance in your eyes, that makes him want to see where this will lead. He's curious about you, about what makes you tick, about what you’ve been through at the hands of this guy. It must be bad. Really fucking bad. Bad enough for you to be able to access the Hell Link at all. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies your pretty face. His eyes are intense, searching for any sign of weakness or hesitation. Do you hate him that badly? Do you want the guy out of your life this badly? Oh, Gojo can’t even put it into words how much he loves this part of his job. He loves seeing humans decide how far they’re willing to go, what they’re willing to pay in order to have what they want, where they decide to lay their moral boundaries – if they even have any at all.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, taking a hesitant step back. Your room is quaint so even a small step back has you pressed against the hard ridge of your desk. It’s the first time since he’s arrived that Gojo has seen you waver. How could you not hesitate though? Your soul burning in hell? For what? You didn’t do anything to deserve damnation. You’re the victim here. You’re the one being mercilessly bullied.

Anytime Mako manages to get you alone, you’re subjected to cruelty that you don’t deserve. He’s a sadist, really. No one ever seems to see the way he looks at you, pulls your hair, pinches you, stabs you with unfurled paper clips – anything to unsettle you. You can’t take it anymore. You can’t go another day lying to your parents about where each little cut, scrape, and bruise Mako gives you came from. And, why you? You’re just some random classmate. You never did anything to him.

Usually, you’d just suck it up. You’d tell yourself to just get through this, that you’re just paying your dues. But things have changed today. Your tormentor went too far today. The pain between your thighs is evident of everything you were subjected to today. Gojo watches you closely as you take a step back, pressing yourself against the wood of the desk. He can see the doubt that’s creeping in as you consider the terms of his offer. He knows that you’re scared, that the thought of damning your own soul is a terrifying prospect. These souls your kind value so much that Gojo only views as currency. “You’re already living in hell right now though, aren’t you?” Only the truly desperate and broken are able to meet him. You play as if this is such a difficult decision for you, but he knows that he wouldn’t be in front of you right now if you hadn’t already made up your mind.

The demon pushes himself off of your bed, his long legs carrying him towards you in a few easy strides. He stops just short of touching you, close enough that you can feel the cool air radiating off of his body, smell the fire and brimstone he lives in. He tilts his head to the side and reads your mind. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this,” he says this softly and it’s out of character for him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this guy is making your life a living hell and there’s only one thing you can do about it.” He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the bruises on your arm, tracing the outlines of the abuse that you’ve endured. He’d have to dip his hands underneath your skirt to feel every place on your body that your bully has abused but he doesn’t. The demon leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours. His blue eyes bore into your own, searching for any sign of resistance. If he found any, he would allow himself to vanish. He’d go back to hell and forget all about you, but you bite your lip and meekly nod at him.

“I can give you the justice you deserve. I can make sure that he pays for what he’s done to you.” He presses two fingers into the bruise on your shoulder, causing you to flinch in pain. Satoru doesn’t let you pull away from him. He causes you discomfort on purpose. “I can make him pay for all the place he’s bruised on you today.” And his eyes bore straight into yours, no need to blink. “All of them.”

When those final words come out in his airy monotonous voice, you know that he knows exactly what your bully has put you through, each brutal detail even though you haven’t opened your mouth about it to anyone. You take a deep breath and agree to his conditions. “Tell me.” He commands, a long finger making its way across your jaw as if to tease you. The way that he talks to you really proves that he is the creature that he claims to be. Satoru has the tongue of a true demon.

Gojo’s eyes darken with anticipation, finding you so mouth-watering that he can’t do this by the book anymore. His thumb joins his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to get a closer look at your parted lips. “Yes, please.” He smirks as you brainlessly agree to his conditions. He can sense your fear. He begins to feed off of it. As he speaks, his fingers trace a path down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He can feel the rapid pulse of your heartbeat, the way your breath hitches in your throat. You’re petrified but a part of you that’s excited by the prospect of finally being heard, of finally being avenged and set free. He leans even closer into you, his breath wafting against your ear. It isn’t hot or cool or any temperature at all – just there and overwhelming. “Tell me everything, little doll. Don’t hold back. Tell me what you want.” The demon feels himself getting excited from touching you even just a little bit. Your eyes flutter shut as you succumb to his touch.

He feeds off of your pain. Gojo’s eyes never leave your face as he waits for you to speak. He can see the emotions swirling in their depths, the fear, the anger, the desperation. It’s all so delicious. What he wouldn’t give to just devour your whole soul right here and now. He can tell that you want to tell him all of your deepest desires and can see how badly you need to.

Memories of Mako forcing his body onto yours, not even letting a thunderstorm stop him from taking you, flood your brain and brings a batch of tears to your fluttering eyes. You clutch the fabric of Satoru’s shirt and let him hold you upright as he whispers into your ear, all of the things he’d do to Mako for you. You love it. You love hearing him speak about all of the brutal things your bully deserves to have happen to him. Any purity in your heart falls away. “I want...” And your pain replaces your mercy. “I-I want,” The demon was right. You have made your mind up already. “Want you to... make him suffer for me.” The brutality that comes out of your mouth pleases the demon.

Satoru listens intently that you do want him to suffer similar horrors to the ones you’ve endured. You whisper it as if you’re afraid of God hearing the filth spewing out of your pretty mouth. He has the power to make all of your pain mean something, to get even. As you cling to his shirt, he holds you close, his voice a low growl against your ear. He describes in graphic detail the tortures he can inflict upon your bully, the agony that he’ll endure because of what he’s been doing to you. “I’ll make him beg for your mercy; you know. It’ll be excruciating. Isn’t that how he made you feel, made you feel unbearable pain?” The demon tells you about the ways he’ll break Mako’s spirit, how he’ll make him suffer in ways a human could never even imagine. He speaks filthily until he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage in excitement.

Gojo pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, to see the newfound determination that burns within them. He knows that you're ready, that you’re willing to pay the price for the type of justice he peddles. He smiles, a wicked gleam in his eyes, displaying how evil he really is. The demon you summoned steps back, giving you a moment to process what has just transpired. He can see the relief in your eyes, the satisfaction that comes from knowing that your nightmare is finally about to be over. He knows that he has the resources to give you the gift of closure, the opportunity to move on and reclaim your life.

The demon can see your future. He doesn’t tell any of it to you, of course. He can see you living a successful life, even without your mortal soul. Gojo sees higher education in your future. He sees marriage and babies in your future. He can see you dying after a long life if you just give into what he’s offering you. But if you weren’t strong enough to take the plunge, he could see you dying young, suffocating under the weight of your own silence – your life carelessly taken away by a school bully. Is that what you want? Would you rather become an angel?

You pant as you cling to him, desperation and frustration bleeding from your soul for his inhuman eyes to watch. Satoru questions if this is all too much for you to handle, despite you being the one who asked for this. You get so honest and a bit needy and it puts on an amusing show for the demon. When you part your lips once again, nothing but pure need comes out of your mouth. “I need you to do it.” You beg, straining your voice. Satoru looks pleased when your eyes squeeze shut so tightly that starbursts must be dancing behind your eyelids and a bead of drool runs down your chin. “I need you to make him feel how he makes me feel. Make him suffer.” You tenderly rip the scarlet string away from the straw doll’s neck and let it flutter to the floor. You look so fucked out already, just getting off on the pretty pictures his sinful words are painting in your mind.

With a snap of his fingers, Gojo seals your contract. With a snap of his fingers, he vows to right all the wrongs in your life. He vows to torture anyone who has ever tortured you. He smiles at you once more, an expression that he rarely wears and one that you don’t even get to see. The demon leaves you alone in your bedroom. Without his support, you fall to the hardwood floor with a thump and collapse in tears. You soaked through clothes drip onto the floor, turning you into a puddle.

You can hardly believe what you’ve just done. You just made a deal with a demon. You just sold your soul. You’ve damned Mako to hell for eternity... along with yourself. Look at where your hate has driven you. You lie there and let your mind become a storm of regret and disbelief. When you first heard of the Hell Correspondence, you weren’t even sure if something like this could ever be true. You had no idea how true it was. At first, you thought that it may be a good way to blow off steam, a metaphorical way to deal with your pent-up rage towards Mako.

You turned the idea of sending him to hell over in your head for days, always wondering if you would be going too far. You never wanted to go too far. But he did today, and you couldn’t hold yourself back. You ran upstairs to your bedroom, ignoring your parents, and typed his full name into the link immediately. How were you supposed to know that a real demon would appear before your very eyes?

With Satoru, the demon, leaving you in such a flash, the room feels oddly colder. You assume the chill comes from the crushing weight of your circumstances. Your body trembles but it isn’t from the cold. The trepidation comes from the realization that there is no turning back from you. You can’t undo this deal. Through the fog of your mind, you hear Satoru’s voice in the very back, nagging you. He tells you that this is exactly what you wanted; reminds you that you would’ve never been able to get so close to him if you didn’t really want this. This is what you asked for.

But is it really? You don’t move from your crouch as you think about what you thought you wanted. What did you want? You just wanted him to stop. You think back on how it felt to be trampled on by him, tortured by him. It felt like hell being treated like that with no one that cared to stop it, not interested in disrupting the monotony of their own lives – doomed bystanders.

You think back on how it felt, under his crushing body on the cold hard ground with no one around to hear your sobs and whimpers. It felt like hell, trapped at the mercy of someone who doesn’t have any. Thinking long and hard about the way he made you feel, the weight of your choice crashes over you. An infinitely high tidal wave that touches the sky and crashes over you. You try to pull yourself together and breathe. Standing on two shaky legs, you make your way to your bedroom mirror. You almost don’t want to look at yourself, worrying that you might be completely changed. Someone entirely new might meet your eyes. A stranger. You worry that you may have stepped into a new life.

Opening your eyes is no easy feat but, when you do, you see... yourself. You’re still yourself. Sure, you look like a drowned kitten right now and your hair and clothes are a mess. There’s a new hollowness in your eyes and they’re just as swollen, but they see the new bit of pitch-black etching itself into your chest. You snap a few buttons and step closer, straining to get a good look at the mark. A strange symbol has appeared over your frantic heartbeat. Even though your room is dim, only light coming from your computer monitor, you can still see it.

Gently, you rub your thumb over it as if to wipe it off, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It doesn’t budge when you lick your thumb and rub it harder either. You’ve got an idea of what it is, this new permanent mark on your body, but you can’t be certain. Before you have the chance to make any more guesses or search for answers online, the demon’s presence returns and it’s even heavier than it was before. He appears before your eyes like it’s nothing and stands in the middle of the room, inhuman eyes scanning for you. “Little doll,” He greets you with a new insanity behind his eyes, as if he’s just experienced the sickest thrill of his life. While Satoru still looks the same as before, you can see that he’s changed a bit. You can tell that he’s just finished doing something wicked – all according to your request. This is what you paid for. And you don’t want to know exactly what went on between your bully and the demon. The twisted grin he wears lets you know that you couldn’t stomach it anyway. All that you can do is hope that it was all that he deserved.

When Gojo returns to your bedroom, he’s delightfully surprised to find that you’re not in the state that he left you in. For you, for a human, you likely felt as if he were only gone for a minute or so. Maybe even less. Your body is still trembling and shaking with fear. The passage of time isn’t real for him, so it hasn’t ravaged you. You’re still the vulnerable and broken figure in the dim light of the room. The demon feels an unfamiliar stirring in his chest, a tenderness that he has long forgotten.

Looking at you... like this... it makes him hate the thought of that trash he just murdered laying a finger on you. “I killed him.” He confirms this when he sees the question in your eyes. What happened? You don’t wanna know what exactly happened between Satoru and Mako. That, he can promise. “You wanna know how, Doll?” He takes a short step to you and teases you a bit. He knows that you don’t have any desire to know what he did to your little bully.

He sidles up behind you, his reflection faint in the mirror. He doesn’t touch you roughly, even when he places his pale hands over your chest and unbuttons your shirt all the way down, exposing your bra and stomach to his feasting eyes. The demon moves a bit carelessly but it’s not as if he would know that. Not until you gasp as his invasiveness. “That’s my seal.” He clarifies, two fingers drumming along the new black mark – the symbol – that's magically appeared on your chest.

He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror, beginning to grin and exposing his sharp demonic teeth to you. An unnaturally long tongue lies in the pit of his mouth. Some of his features don’t pair well with others. The evil mouth doesn’t fit the soft cerulean eyes or the pale blushed skin or even his ivory locks. He runs a hand along your smooth skin because he can, but he still surveys your expression. It’s still as sad as ever, still as broken. You’re so precious.

The demon leaves you and navigates your bedroom as if it’s his own. He takes a seat on your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Your uniform is still soaked through with the rainwater that couldn’t touch him while he was out handling your dirty work. “The seal is like a reminder. Every time you see it on your body, it’ll remind you that your soul is mine. Until you die.” Satoru barely gets his final word out before you’re sobbing loudly and uncontrollably again.

How can he talk so casually about things like this - murder and the buying and selling of souls? Of course, you know how he can talk about this, but you wonder why he’s still here. Why is he still in your room, telling you things that you either know already or could find out yourself? Why is this reminder of what you’ve done still haunting you? The demon watches as you sob, expression unreadable. He’s seen humans break down before, beg and cry – some truly undignified things; he can’t believe he ever was one, but it’s different when you do it. There’s something about your tears that strikes chords within him, and it’s been centuries since he’s felt anything resembling empathy, so the sensation is a foreign and unsettling one.

Satoru moves to sit beside you on the floor you keep winding up on and reaches out to you. His fingers ghost over the seal on your chest. The mark pulses beneath his touch, a reminder that the two of you are now bound together forever. “Why are you crying, Dolly?” The demon spews that annoying nickname out at you again. “I thought maybe you’d be grateful, maybe even ask me for the gory details.” He coos this into your ear, daring to tuck a piece of wet hair behind your ear. His voice is uncharacteristically gentle, and you worry that he’s taunting you.

“Why on Earth would I do that?” You shout, losing control of your emotions. His eyes flicker to yours, wondering if that was an authentic response. He can’t quite understand why you’re still crying, why the thought of Mako’s demise doesn’t bring you solace. Perhaps it’s a female thing, he thinks. “Why...” Your voice cracks as you force the words out. “Why are you still here?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, a bit of genuine surprise passing across his beautifully inhuman features. “Didn’t think you’d be so emotional about it. What happened to the angry little doll that summoned me?” His voice lacks its usual mocking tone. Instead, there lingers a note of curiosity, even concern.

Why is he still here? He looks at you, all tears since the moment he met you. Satoru’s hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. The gesture is oddly tender, a stark contrast to the brutal actions he committed mere moments ago. He likes that you don’t cower away from his touch. “Your little bully is gone, damned, never to bother you again. Is that what you wanted?” His words come out stern, his tone deadly serious. He sounds more focused than he has the entire time he’s been here.

What you wanted. A ridiculously annoying question. You didn’t want Mako dead and burning. You wanted him to leave you alone. He wouldn’t do that though and no one could’ve stopped him from doing what he wanted with you time and time again. I had no other choice. You know that. Somehow, the demon knows that. Why does justice leave you feeling so uneasy? Is it because you know that you have no right to play God with anyone else’s life like this?

You don’t answer his question. Instead, you turn your gaze away from him, staring at the floor as you continue to cry. Satoru watches you for a long moment, studying your every feature – your pretty face – trying to the conflict within you. He sits down next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat from the hellfire he calls his home. “Listen, doll. What’s done is done. There’s no going back, no un-killing that guy. You don’t have any reason to feel guilty though, and you wanna know why?” The demon gives you an inquisitive look, raising an eyebrow and compelling you to play his guessing game.

“Why?” You croak the word out and look back at him with bloodshot eyes. The demon’s hand moves to rest on your shoulder, his touch firm and burning through you.

“Because I could see his future like I can see yours and, at the rate the two of you were going, that piece of shit was days away from taking your life.” You swallow around the implication that if you hadn’t pulled the trigger tonight, you’d end up a true victim of school violence, murdered. It should be enough to absolve you of any lingering guilt. Murdering a murderer isn’t really murder, is it? “You got exactly what you wanted. Say it.” Gojo’s words are like cement as they ring in your ears.

You gulp around your words and breathe them out as quickly as possible, feeling as if each syllable is choking you on its way up your trembling throat. “I...” The demon watches in amusement as your frail brain tries to wrap itself around your reality. So feeble. Your lips quiver. “I got... what I wanted.”

He smirks when you admit it, can tell that you’re still not sure if you believe your own words or not but you say what he tells you to simply to obey him and Gojo likes that a lot. “You did. So, when do I get what I want?” He questions, eyeing you.

Satoru’s eyes gleam with a mix of amusement and hunger as he gazes upon your perpetually tear-stained face. He can sense the conflict welling up inside of you and wants nothing more than to give you some release. He’s aching for it. Just one burning touch to your sensitive skin. “What... do you want?” Just one. He’s here for his own desires, his own twisted pleasures.

He draws closer to you, breath soft against your collarbones as he whispers to you, “Your soul isn’t enough. Want your body too.” With his words, he can sense your unease, your new feelings. You look at him the way that he’s been looking at you since he met you. His fingers trail down your neck, tracing pentagrams and other random shapes into your skin. His finger leaves a hot trail in its wake. You can’t help but shiver at his touch. “Now that I’ve done your bidding, it’s time for you to pay up a little.” Satoru’s voice is like velvet, a seductive purr that seems to have been designed to talk his prey into bending to obey him.

You see his eyes narrow as he lets his lips brush against the shell of your ear. His breath is all brimstone and mischief, and it sends multitudes of shivers down your spine. “If I can make Mako feel otherworldly pain, then I can make you feel otherworldly pleasure.” His hand slides down your chest, making sure to touch your contract seal once more, and comes to rest at the waistband of your skirt. He hooks a finger before easing it down and you find yourself lifting your legs to help him get it off you. You’re not sure why you bend for him like this, why you’re so quick to obey. You’re not sure why you want it. “Want you to grant my wish too, pretty.” He whispers as he leans into you and allows his lips to ghost over yours.

His hand is so gentle against your waist, rubbing the skin there as if to ease you into it. There’s something about the air in the demon’s words, something that compels you to give in. Something... “Wanna devour you whole and make you love it.” Sinful. You don’t miss the wicked grin that spreads across the ethereal face, revealing sharp teeth. Satoru’s tongue darts out as if to show off how long it really is. He runs it along his bottom lip in a deliberate manner, successfully coaxing more moans out of your breathless mouth.

You can’t help but gasp when the demon’s other hand comes up to grab your hip with his harsh grip. He tugs you closer to him. The hell that burns within this being makes his body hot, hotter than regular body heat. His touch burns you, but the feeling is so good that you lean into it. You thought that another touch like this would disgust you, but Gojo has a way about him that makes you need him.

The demon before you lets his hands graze your hip, your thigh. He lets it run between your legs and savors the gasp you let out when he cups your clothed pussy. He wonders if anyone has ever touched you like this as his ruts his hand into your clit, feeling your panties grow soaked by the second. Your arousal seeps past the flimsy fabric and wets his skin. “I’m your alter now.” You moan as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit a few times, actions rough just like his words. Satoru presses his nose against your cheek and lets out a deep exhale, nearly growling.

He pulls back slightly and looks at you with hooded eyes. “Tell me that you want it, human.” He growls as you recline further onto your glossy wood floors and lay your body out for him. “Tell me that you want me.” He repeats his words when he sees that you’re far too gone, lost in pleasure, to properly answer him.

You whimper next to him as his body begins to lumber over yours. You’re left in your unbuttoned shirt and panties, completely at this demon’s mercy. No one knows that he’s here, that he’s touching you. Your parents have to be asleep by now. You squirm beneath him as he slows his hand, waiting for you to obey once again. “I want you.” It’s meek and it comes out as a whisper, but he hears you loud and clear and pushes your panties aside, forcefully shoving two long fingers inside of your sopping hole.

Before you have the chance to cry out at the sudden intrusion, his hand clamps over your mouth. Satoru whispers something about not wanting to be interrupted and shallowly thrusts his fingers in. His fingers glide so easily against your walls, from centuries of experience toying with weak human women. He smirks down at you as you let your back hit the floor – no longer in control of your actions. His deep pumps are controlling your every move now. Satoru’s grin widens, his hands slipping further between your thighs as he spreads you open. The demon’s fingers tease at your entrance, dipping in and out and leaving a wet trail in their wake.

His fingers run over the softness of your pubic hair, rustling the short hairs there and tickling you. The demon runs his fingers over the slick, soft wetness of your delicate cunt. He plays with you; teases you a bit before spreading those folds open like the petals of a rose. Satoru is hard in his pants before he knows it, the scent of him fucking your arousal out of your hole hitting his nose and making his head nearly rush. Satoru’s free hand cups your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple to tease the hardness. “Gonna enjoy breaking you, even more than I enjoyed breaking the last one.”

The demon’s fingers pump into you almost brutally, nailing your core in its most sensitive spots, already knowing exactly where to hit you. His digits drive you crazy, but his words scare you to the core. You whimper at the threatening exclamation and attempt to squeeze your thighs together and cut off his access to your body. “Nu-uh, little doll.” He pries your legs apart and, with a swift and brutal motion, he tears your panties off your body. The fabric shreds and falls to the floor in delicate threads.

Gojo takes every opportunity to remind you that you belong to him now, that you’ve sold yourself to him. You don’t belong to this world anymore. You don’t belong to your parents. You don’t belong to yourself. Your mortal soul has been bound to a demon’s will and it empties you out and makes you hollow, as if to make room for something more. “What’s the matter? Need me to kiss you a little first? S’okay. I know how human females can be. So sensitive but I don’t mind it.” He removes his hand from your nipple, keeps his other buried in your cunt, and grips your chin. The skin of your face is soaking wet with tears and rainwater, but he pushes his lips against yours roughly anyway.

He swallows the sound that comes out of your mouth when he pushes his sharp tongue into your mouth. The kiss isn’t sweet. It’s evil and possessive. The demon kisses you like he’s officially staking his claim on you, taking what’s rightfully his. He purrs against you, voice thick with lust as it vibrates against your trembling lips. He thrusts into your harder, screwing his fingers into you.

When he pulls away, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you and you look at him with fearful eyes. You curse as you feel your orgasm begin to wash over you like a tidal wave. “Oh, fuck!” You sigh, finding yourself bucking your hips to meet his movements. Your eyes are shut so tightly that you don’t see the sick grin he makes as he stares down at you. Satoru lets his pace pick up a little, finger-fucking you through your orgasm.

He moans as you whimper against the floor and struggle to separate your bodies. “Stop acting,” He growls, his grip on your body viscous. His fingers don’t cease, and he contemplates adding a third just to relish your reaction. “Acting like a scared virgin, like you can’t take it.” The demon’s hand slips from your hair, traveling down your body with a sense of purpose. He caresses your curves, teasing and taunting you as he goes, before wrapping around your throat. You choke at the new sensation; your windpipe being gripped harshly. Somehow, you can still feel him holding back. Satoru holds back from really hurting you, from truly breaking you. He could do it. Could do whatever he pleased with you, but he shows you mercy, finding you to appealing to destroy so soon. Your walls are humming with overstimulation as he curls his fingers and massages your walls. They glide against you expertly.

The stretch positively burns but your moans are never-ending, and you writhe against the cool floor. With a wicked smile, he plunges his menacing fingers into your wetness, mercilessly beating against your g-spot like he hates it. He stares at you, naked body writhing, sweating, chest heaving. “Wanna milk you so hard, maybe make you cum to death, doll.” The brutal pace that he’s set for his digits is relentless as he pounds into them into you and another overwhelming orgasm begins to work up within your nearly spent body.

“Can’t-” You gasp beneath the demon. “Can’t cum again. Satoru!” You slap your hand against the floor, as if to tap out, as if to beg him to go easier on you. He tuts and shakes his head. No mercy from him. Not until you give him the puddle he wants. You gasp for breath as you mindlessly cum all over his fingers and your bedroom floor. Gojo’s pulls his fingers out and observes them in the glowing light of your computer monitor. Translucent juices coat the demon’s skin and cling to him until he holds them to his lips and licks it off. You watch him through hazy vision.

Through hazy vision you watch as the demon laps your juices off his fingers and lets his eyes roll in the back of his head at your flavor. You’re weak and all you can do is watch. He looks down at you and pushes his sloppy fingers past your parted lips. The taste of your own cum and his saliva floods your senses, a sinful cocktail of flavors. You feel him... sullying you and you’re not new to the feeling of being made dirty, but Satoru – this demon you’ve summoned – makes it feel like a privilege.

When he retreats his fingers from your tongue, his smirk returns. “Alright.” He unbuckles his belt and doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen. “We’re not done yet, dolly.” He flashes his pearly teeth at you, an intimidating smile before pulling his own clothes off his body and you're remaining. The demon bares his cock to you, inches thick and long at the same time. Veins shoot down the length, bulging under the blushed pink skin. Pre coats it, makes it glisten under the LED light int he room. “Turn over.” The demand is quick and final. You’re still coming down, but you scramble to do as he tells you, excitement and fear filling you in equal measure. He finds it cute, you jumping to please him.

You turn over on your hands and knees to present yourself to him, but the demon presses his large pals to the small of your back and forces your stomach against the cold and hard floor, plump ass at the mercy of his hungry hands. He kneads the flesh in generous amounts and relishes the slight moans you let out. He can tell that your body is still overstimulated, but the demon can tell that you love it. You love the discomfort. You love the sensation of feeling something, of doing something wrong. You love the way he makes you feel. You can’t hide that.

He pins you to the floor, collapsed in the puddle he fucked out of you and the mess of discarded clothes. The wood is ice cold and nearly paralyzes you but, when the demon presses his abdomen against your shivering back, he relaxes all his weight on you carelessly. He pumps his hard cock between your plush cheeks, groaning against your neck as he stimulates himself. The feeling of the underside of his cock rolling against your puckered hole, mingled in with the sounds of his own pleasure, causes your eyes to roll into the back of your head. “Feels good, baby.” He whispers the words against the shell of your ear, heating the side of your face.

Satoru’s body is searing, but you can tell that it isn’t simply from body heat. He thrusts between your soft cheeks until his first load shoots across your back, splattering against your skin in a lewd splash. In the throes of his own pleasure, the demon on top of you finds your wrists and pins them to the floor to keep you in place while he rides out his first orgasm with you.

You feel helplessly exposed when he sits up to view the mess, he created all over your back. His cum decorates your ass, a sticky wet tribute. He couldn’t help it, but he knows that you loved it. He loves playing with you like this too. Gojo runs his thumb through the hot sticky mess and lets it gather on his finger before pushing it past the tight ring of your asshole, working his thumb and his ejaculate into your pretty hole.

Of course, that sudden invasion sends you squealing and slightly kicking your ankles beneath him. “Shh, little doll. Shut the hell up and let me play.” Gojo’s fingers love to prod at you and pinch at your delicate human flesh. “Gonna take it real good for me, like a good doll would? He asks you, baring a menacing cock, pressing the swollen hot tip against your puffy cunt’s entrance. The demon’s cock is plenty long; has to be three times the size of the only other penis you’ve ever seen. You’d be lying if you weren’t terrified but find yourself pushing back against the thick length. He’s sporting plenty girth, and it feels like he’s splitting you straight down the middle when he pushes the inches deep inside of you.

He forces more into you, stretching you further than you’ve been stretched in your life, and it burns. It burns like hellfire in the deepest pits. Satoru’s eyes shimmer with glee as he forces himself inside and groans at the feeling of your slick walls clamping down all around him. The demon’s free hand leaves your wrists, moving to grip your hair once more, pulling your head back as he leans in to capture your mouth in a brutal, possessive kiss. His tongue plunders your mouth, demanding and taking as he continues to ravage your body trapped beneath him.

There’s something about the way this evil demon is fucking you. It’s inhumanly good. It’s too good but he fucks you full like he truly owns you now. He fucks you full of his possession as the rest of his length slides into the depths of your body. Satoru Gojo fucks you like your body is his. You’re a mess underneath him, moaning and crying against the floor. Your fingernails claw at the wood you’re pressed against until your claw marks rip chunks out. “Fuck! Please, Satoru!” You sob. “Please, please, pleeeease!” And you’ve got no idea what you’re even begging for. Satoru’s pace begins to pick up, his hips moving in a frenzy and they never slow down. You realize that he’s able to fuck you so fluidly because he’s not like you. He’s not a human that ever needs to slow down and breathe. The knowledge that he would never have to take break from fucking you sends a mix of fear and pleasure through your body. He drives into you with brutal force, and... you love it.

Each thrust into your weak pussy sends shivers of pain and pleasure coursing through your body, the lines between the two blurring as he claims you with his ruthless efficiency. He keeps going, cock driving into you with a force that you can hardly comprehend. It takes you ages to adjust. You try to process each time his tip hits your g-spot, but he doesn’t leave you enough time between each time his pelvis smacks against your ass. “What are you asking for, doll? Hm? What does this sweet little pussy want?” He asks. You couldn’t possibly ask for it harder, he thinks. He’s already giving it to you with a faction of his actual strength. God, if he fucks you any harder, he might really fuck you to death. You moan when he delivers a particularly sharp thrust, and he thinks that you might just want that.

The two of you breathe together like a singular beast, fucking each other as if neither of you have any self-control. The sound of your skin in the puddle of your own milky cum squelching against the floor fills the room, along with your desperate cries and moans. He fills you up so well, feels too good. Feels like he may ruin every other man on the planet for you. He fucks you well, like he’s cashing in the privilege of being inside of you for killing and permanently eradicating one of your most dangerous predators. Satoru’s thick cock hammers into you and forces you to come undone, forces more sweet cum to go dribbling out of your claimed cunt. As you fall apart beneath him, your walls clench around him and it feels like your hot sex is suffocating him. The demon is merciless. Even as the sensations become too much, even as you beg him for more and less at the same time, he doesn’t relent. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body, forcing you to ride the edge of your orgasm for what feels like an eternity.

Through it all, the demon's eyes never leave the back of your head, the deep blue depths glittering with an unholy hunger. He watches as you struggle underneath him, his twisted pleasure growing with each whimper and cry you offer up to him – signaling that he is fucking you well. Only when you’re a shaking, sobbing mess does the demon finally let up from you and focus on where exactly his cock is hitting you. He makes sure that it’s hitting all the right spots until he feels your body tense against his. Your walls desperately clench around his fingers, seeking the release that he’s kept you waiting for so long.

You tell yourself that it isn’t wrong. The otherworldly pleasure that he promised you isn’t wrong at all. Why would you need to stop yourself from giving into an apostate of Satan? Worried about going to hell for it? You’ll already be there. Your thoughts begin to feel like something the demon would say to you, and you wonder if he is feeding his thoughts to you somehow.

The menacing cock continues to plunge into you, the brutal pace never faltering once he sets it again. He takes so much pleasure in forcing you to endure the overwhelming sensations. His cock, perpetually buried deep inside of you, pulses with each thrust, the head hitting your sweet spot with unerring accuracy. The demon’s eyes, dark and filled with sadistic glee, never leave your face as he watches the pleasure and pain play across your features.

Your bedroom transforms and becomes filled with the sounds of your cries and the wet, obscene noises of him plummeting into you. He pistons himself into your weak human body, a body made of flesh that he can easily break down. When he feels himself getting close again, you feel every bit of the heat he’s able to produce and weren’t being fucked utterly stupid right now, you’d worry about things like severe burns or the likelihood of needing a wheelchair for the rest of your life. Satoru revels in it all. Your wet hair. Your struggles and whimpers. Your silky sweet cunt. “Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” All you can do is repeat it. Your brain can’t force anything of substance out. You can feel the arousal of the demon on top of you grow with each whimper and moan that you utter. He wants to hear you break, wants to feel you shatter beneath him as he pushes you past your limits.

The pain and pleasure have merged into a single, overwhelming sensation, Satoru keeps his cock pressed hard against your spot and barely pulls out, thrusting into you as closely as he can. It’s as if the two of you have created a brand-new emotion that no other human has ever felt before. You gasp, your lungs begging for air. Your skin is soaking wet all over, rainwater, cum, the demon’s sweat. The air conditioner in the room made it freeze, but Satoru’s aura has turned it into a sauna.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, the tip of his cock hits the back of your cunt in the most delicious way possible and sends you hurtling towards another orgasm, and it makes you see the light. You really see a white light, and an unearthly vision that makes you think that you may really be dying. Gojo might get your soul a lot sooner than he thought. “Sa.... Satoru, cumming! Cumming so fuckin’ hard!” You cry out, your voice thankfully not making it over the sound of the rainstorm going on outside, but your demon hears you loud and clear and he adores your sounds.

Your body convulses as your orgasm takes over and your back arches against his chest, forcing you to stick together. He fucks you through it until you feel raw and immobile. The demon doesn’t hesitate to cum deep within the confines of your pussy. He fucks you straight through the euphoria that the two of you have given each other. His erratic thrusts only grow, and his control slips as he fills you to the brim. He continues to pump with the same degree of brutality until your body is wracked with tremors, until you’re shuddering without control to the same rhythm of the thunder banging against the walls of the house.

The demon’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he groans into the skin of your neck, teeth grazing you. He bites down on your neck, another way of him marking your body with his ownership. Another way for him to display his unrelenting possession over the souls that come to him for salvation. “Got you cumming so brainlessly, cumming so well for your master. Like a good little doll.” He sighs as he rocks into you.

The orgasm he gives you seems to last ages. It consumes you like the sweetest flame. The demon fucks you on the floor like a wild animal in heat. His gaze holds an intensity that you should be thankful that you can’t see from where he’s got you pinned. His lips curl into a snarl, a sound of pure, primal pleasure escaping him as he drives into you with one final, devasting, thrust. “Such a good... good girl.” With those words, your body obeys, your orgasm crashing over you in heated waves. You convulse beneath him and begin babbling like an idiot, your mouth moving on its own. Gojo’s cock throbs, pulses inside you, each thrum sending another surge of pleasure through your wrecked body. He fills you with his release, marking you as his own, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

The demons' hips jerk and twitch as he empties himself inside you, his hands returning to yours to pin your wrists to the ground. For a foolish moment, you think he’s trying to hold your hand as the both of you feel your climaxes peak. A low, guttural moan escapes his lips as he rides out the waves of his own pleasure and you find that he’s kept his promise – to show you otherworldly pleasure. That leaves you to believe that he kept his word to show Mako otherworldly pain and that alone fills you with warm feelings.

Any regret that you harbored evaporates. All of your problems are solved, and he lets you ride the waves of your afterglow with his gift of a cock stilled inside of your fucked out hole. Satoru’s grip on your shivering wrists loosens until you feel it fade away. His body lifts from yours, softening member slipping out of your well-used depths. You feel empty, hollow, fully and utterly – thoroughly – claimed by the demon that has just taken you on your bedroom floor.

His eyes rake over your naked form, stilled and totally immobilized. You’re another pretty little thing to be added to his collection in the depths of his home. He’s weathered you away. Time passes and presence fades away, as if he was nothing but a daydream or a hallucination. You worry that he may have been. Your body is stressed and sore as you sit up from the floor and struggle to clean your battered body. The aftershocks of your final orgasm hit you incessantly, falling over your head and refusing to let up. Smoke and shadows fill your room. The scent of arousal still wafts through the air. Was it a dream? Another one of your perfect daydreams?

Slowly, painfully, you push yourself up from the floor, your muscles protesting each movement. You stand up on wobbling legs to look in the mirror once more and stumble a bit. The contract seal is still etched into your skin like a tattoo – a promise of where you’ll spend your eternity. Bound to a ruthless demon like that forever. For an endless amount of time. You avoid your reflection’s eyes when you feel the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a soft smile at the thought of it.

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