The ritual circle tasted like burnt ozone.
Valentino stood at the center of the pentagram he'd painstakingly drawn in the vault's secure chamber, the grimoire floating before him as crimson smoke poured from his lips in carefully measured breaths. The ancient text had been surprisingly cooperative once he'd figured out the basics—a drop of his own ichor here, a whispered incantation there, and suddenly the air itself began to tear like wet paper.
The portal opened with a sound like reality screaming, and Valentino stepped through without hesitation.
He emerged into blinding sunlight—actual sunlight, not the perpetual hellfire glow he'd grown accustomed to over the centuries. His wings instinctively wrapped tighter around his shoulders as he blinked rapidly, his compound eyes struggling to adjust to the assault of natural light. The grimoire had deposited him on some kind of rooftop overlooking a sprawling city that looked almost... human.
"Interesting," he murmured, pulling his long coat tighter and adjusting his red top hat. His appearance would draw attention here—he could feel it in the way the air moved differently, the way gravity pulled with unfamiliar weight. But the grimoire had promised this world contained beings of extraordinary power, entities that existed between the physical and spiritual planes.
Perfect casting material.
He prowled along the rooftop's edge, his high-heeled boots clicking against concrete as he surveyed his hunting ground. The city below bustled with ordinary humans going about their pathetically mundane lives, completely unaware that a demon from Hell was window-shopping for fresh talent directly above their heads.
Then he felt it—a pulse of energy that made his antennae stand straight up, quivering with sudden, intense interest.
Someone was moving through the city at impossible speed, their soul leaving a trail of golden heat in their wake. Valentino's head snapped toward the sensation, his heart-shaped glasses sliding down his nose as he tracked the movement with predatory focus.
There.
She materialized on a rooftop three buildings away, and Valentino's breath caught in his throat.
The woman was... fuck, she was something else. Dark skin that gleamed like polished mahogany in the afternoon sun, eyes like molten gold that said she'd eat you alive and enjoy every damn bite. And those curves had his demonic dick straining against his pants before his brain even caught up. Her orange outfit might as well have been painted on that ass, and her purple hair swung in a ponytail that practically screamed "grab me" with every step she took.
But holy hell, the way she moved—like sex given form, raw power in every muscle. This wasn't some pathetic little bitch fumbling through life. This was grade-A premium pussy on legs, the kind that walked into a room and made every swinging dick stand at attention without even trying.
"Oh, mami," Valentino breathed, smoke curling from between his sharp teeth. "Where have you been all my afterlife?"
He watched her scan the cityscape, clearly searching for something—or someone. Her brow furrowed with concentration, those golden eyes narrowing as she processed information he couldn't begin to guess at. She seemed completely unaware of his presence, which suited him perfectly.
Valentino reached into his coat and withdrew his opera-length cigarette holder, fitting a fresh cigarette into the end with practiced ease. The smoke that curled from his lips wasn't ordinary tobacco—it never had been. His particular brand of influence came wrapped in pink haze, sweet-smelling and utterly intoxicating to anyone unfortunate enough to breathe it in.
He moved closer, using the shadows between buildings to mask his approach. The woman remained focused on her search, completely oblivious to the predator closing in behind her.
When he was close enough to see the individual strands of her purple hair catching the light, Valentino struck.
Pink smoke billowed from his lips in a concentrated stream, flowing toward her like a living thing. It wrapped around her face before she could react, sliding into her nostrils and parted lips with invasive intimacy. Her golden eyes widened in shock, then confusion, then...
Nothing.
The tension drained from her shoulders like water from a broken vessel. Her searching gaze went soft and unfocused, those predator's eyes becoming glassy and docile as the hypnotic smoke did its work. Her arms dropped to her sides, her aggressive stance melting into something pliant and waiting.
Valentino circled around to face her, drinking in the sight of his newest acquisition with undisguised hunger. Up close, she was even more stunning—her features sharp and aristocratic, her body a masterpiece of athletic curves that would photograph like a dream.
"There we go, preciosa," he purred, reaching out to cup her chin with one gloved hand. She didn't flinch, didn't resist—just stared at him with those empty golden eyes, waiting for instruction. "No more fighting. No more thinking. Just listen to Daddy's voice and do exactly what he says."
She nodded slowly, her lips parting in silent acceptance.
Valentino's smile stretched wide enough to show every one of his sharp cerise teeth. He pulled the grimoire from inside his coat, the ancient text already glowing with the power needed to open a return portal.
"Let's get you home, baby. We've got work to do."
__________________________________________________________________________
The portal deposited them in the vault of VVV Tower, and Valentino barely had time to steady Yoruichi's swaying form before the door burst open.
"Val! Finally!" Velvet's voice preceded her into the room, high and irritated in equal measure. "Do you have any idea how long we've been—"
She stopped dead, her eyes going wide as she took in the scene before her. Vox appeared behind her a moment later, his screen-face flickering with surprise as he processed the sight of Valentino standing beside a gorgeous, clearly hypnotized human woman.
"What the fuck, Val?" Vox's voice crackled with static. "Is that a human? You brought a human into the tower?"
"Not just any human, mi amor." Valentino's grin stretched impossibly wide as he pulled a thick script from inside his coat—he'd had it prepared for weeks, waiting for the right star to fill the lead role. He pressed it into Yoruichi's limp hands, watching her fingers curl around it automatically. "This is our newest talent. Fresh from another dimension entirely."
Velvet's jaw dropped. "Another dimension? Val, what the hell are you—"
But Valentino was already spinning Yoruichi around, one gloved hand coming down on her ass with a sharp crack that echoed through the vault. The woman gave a slight moan and just started walking toward the door with that same empty, obedient expression.
"Makeup room, preciosa. Third floor, can't miss it. Tell them Valentino sent you." He watched her go, admiring the sway of those hips even in her current zombified state. "They'll know what to do."
The moment she disappeared through the door, both Vox and Velvet rounded on him.
"Explain. Now." Vox's screen flashed an angry red. "You can't just vanish for hours and come back with some interdimensional bimbo without telling us—"
"The grimoire works." Valentino cut him off, pulling the ancient text from his coat with a flourish. "I told you both it would, and it does. I just opened a portal to another fucking dimension, found the hottest piece of ass I've ever seen in my entire existence, and brought her back here to star in our newest production."
Velvet's expression shifted from anger to calculation. "Another dimension. You're serious."
"As a heart attack, muñeca." He tapped the grimoire against his palm. "Think about it—fresh content that no one in Hell has ever seen before. Bodies, faces, abilities that don't exist anywhere else. We could corner the market on exotic before anyone even knows there's a market to corner."
"And what about the logistics?" Vox crossed his arms, his screen settling into a skeptical blue. "Contracts? Legal binding? You can't just kidnap beings from other dimensions and expect—"
"She's hypnotized, Vox. Completely under my control." Valentino waved a dismissive hand. "And this book dose more than just open portals it also enhances my power trust me, nothing is break out of my smoke now."
Velvet and Vox exchanged a look—the kind of silent communication that came from decades of partnership. Valentino could practically see the calculations running behind Velvet's eyes, the profit margins scrolling across Vox's screen.
Finally, Velvet sighed. "Fine. But this better make us money, Val. Real money. Not another one of your passion projects that tanks after two weeks."
"Have I ever let you down?" He spread all four arms wide, the picture of wounded innocence.
"Yes," they said in unison.
Valentino laughed, the sound echoing off the vault's walls. "Fair enough. But this time is different—I can feel it." He turned to Velvet, his antennae twitching with sudden inspiration. "Actually, I need something from you, muñeca. Can you make someone look human? Like, fully human? No demon features, no sinner marks—just pure, untouched flesh?"
Velvet's eyebrow arched. "Why would you want that? Our audience likes the demon aesthetic."
"Because this isn't for our usual audience." Valentino's smile turned predatory. "This is something new. Something that'll make them lose their fucking minds."
__________________________________________________________________________
Three Hours later
"Places, everyone! Final checks!"
The studio floor buzzed with activity as crew members scrambled to adjust lights, check camera angles, and apply last-minute touch-ups. Valentino stood behind the primary monitor, all four hands moving independently—one adjusting his headset, one holding a clipboard, one gesturing at a lighting tech, and the fourth clutching his ever-present cigarette holder.
The set before him was a masterpiece of perverted nostalgia—a recreation of a human classroom, complete with wooden desks, a chalkboard covered in mathematical equations, and afternoon sunlight streaming through fake windows. Every detail had been carefully curated to evoke a very specific fantasy, the kind that made sinners reach for their wallets and their cocks in equal measure.
And there, seated at one of the desks near the front, was his star.
The set before him was a masterpiece of perverted nostalgia—a recreation of a human classroom, complete with wooden desks, a chalkboard covered in mathematical equations, and afternoon sunlight streaming through fake windows. Every detail had been carefully curated to evoke a very specific fantasy, the kind that made sinners reach for their wallets and their cocks in equal measure.
But the costume—fuck, the costume.
The "school uniform" that the women who later told him her name was Yoruichi wore barely deserved the name. A white button-up shirt strained against her massive tits, the fabric pulled so tight that gaps appeared between each button, offering tantalizing glimpses of a lacy purple bra beneath. A plaid skirt that would make Catholic school administrators weep sat so high on her hips that the curve of her ass was visible every time she shifted. Knee-high white socks and black Mary Janes completed the look, along with her purple hair pulled into a ponytail made him just want to rush her.
Valentino ran through his mental checklist one final time. Cameras—six of them, positioned to capture every angle. Lighting—soft and warm, casting that golden afternoon glow that made skin look absolutely fuckable. Sound equipment—rigged to pick up every moan, every gasp, every wet slap of flesh against flesh.
"Alright, people!" He clapped two of his hands together while the other two made final adjustments to his headset. "Let's make some fucking art. And... action!"
The red recording light blinked on, and Yoruichi transformed.
She lounged back in her desk chair like she owned the goddamn classroom, one leg crossed over the other in a way that made her skirt ride up even higher. A cherry-red lollipop dangled from her lips, and she sucked on it with the kind of deliberate, pornographic attention that made Valentino's pants tighten behind the monitor.
Her tongue swirled around the candy in slow circles, pulling it out with an obscene pop before dragging it across her plump lower lip. Those golden eyes—still glazed with his influence but performing beautifully—stared directly ahead with an expression of pure, calculated seduction.
The classroom door swung open with practiced force, and the male talent strode in.
They'd cast a human sinner for the role and Velvet made him look alive again. Big guy, broad shoulders, the kind of imposing presence that read well on camera. He wore the standard teacher getup: button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, khaki slacks, a loosened tie that suggested he'd already had a long day.
"Miss Shihōin." His voice carried that perfect blend of authority and barely-contained frustration. "Do you know why I've called you here after class?"
Yoruichi didn't even look at him. She just kept sucking that lollipop, her lips and tongue working the candy with audible relish.
"Mmm?" She pulled the candy from her mouth with another pop. "Something about my behavior, wasn't it?"
"Your behavior has been completely unacceptable." The teacher moved closer, looming over her desk. "Disrupting class. Inappropriate dress code violations. The incident in the gymnasium—"
"Oh, that." She stretched languidly, arching her back in a way that made those buttons strain even harder against her tits. "I was just having fun, sensei."
"Fun? You call flashing the entire boys' basketball team fun?"
Yoruichi's lips curved into a smirk that could melt steel. She uncrossed her legs slowly, deliberately, giving anyone watching a perfect view up that obscenely short skirt. Purple fabric peeked between her thighs.
"They certainly seemed to enjoy it." She brought the lollipop back to her mouth, maintaining eye contact as she slid it between her lips. "Maybe you're just jealous you weren't there, sensei."
The teacher's face reddened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You think this is a joke? You think you can just waltz around this school acting like a—like a—"
"Like a what?" Yoruichi stood from her desk in one fluid motion, pressing close enough that her tits nearly brushed his chest. She looked up at him through dark lashes, that lollipop still dangling from her fingers. "Go ahead. Say it. I dare you."
She reached up and dragged the wet candy across his lower lip, leaving a sticky trail of cherry-red sweetness.
Something snapped behind the teacher's eyes.
That's it." His voice dropped to a growl. "I've had enough of your disrespect. If you want to act like a brat, I'm going to treat you like one."
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist before she could react. In one smooth motion, he spun her around and shoved her forward over the desk, her cheek pressing against the wooden surface as her ass jutted out behind her.
"You want to know what happens to naughty girls in my classroom?" He flipped that tiny plaid skirt up over her hips, revealing the purple thong that barely covered anything at all—just a thin strip of fabric disappearing between those perfect, round cheeks. "They get disciplined."
SMACK.
His palm connected with her ass hard enough to make the flesh jiggle, the sound echoing through the classroom like a gunshot. Yoruichi let out a gasp that was half surprise, half something else entirely.
"Count them," he ordered.
"O-one," she breathed.
SMACK.
"Two..." Her voice had gone breathy, her fingers curling around the edge of the desk.
Her thong darken and her arouse could not be denied as it dripped down her legs as red handprints bloomed across that dark, perfect skin. Each strike made her ass ripple beautifully, and her moans grew more desperate with each strike, a symphony of pleasure and pain that echoed through the room.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
"Three... four... f-five..." Yoruichi's counting grew more uneven with each blow, her hips starting to squirm against the desk.
The teacher's palm came down again, harder this time, and Yoruichi's whole body shudder with something that definitely wasn't pain. Her thighs pressed together, that purple thong now visibly soaked, her arousal glistening as it trailed down her inner thighs in slow, obscene rivulets.
"Six," she whimpered, but the word came out like a moan, her hips actually pushing back to meet the next blow.
The teacher paused, his hand hovering over her reddened flesh. His breath had grown ragged, and when he shifted his stance, the bulge straining against his khakis was impossible to miss.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" His voice had dropped an octave, rough with barely contained lust. "Dirty little slut. Getting wet from being punished."
"Maybe I am," Yoruichi purred, looking back at him over her shoulder with those glazed golden eyes. "What are you going to do about it, sensei?"
He grabbed her ponytail and yanked her upright, spinning her around to face him. For a moment they just stared at each other—her with that knowing smirk, him with his composure crumbling by the second.
"On your knees."
She dropped immediately, gracefully, like she'd been waiting for the command. Her face was level with his crotch now, and she licked her lips as she watched him fumble with his belt.
"Let me," she breathed, and her fingers replaced his, working the buckle with practiced ease. She pulled down his zipper slowly, deliberately, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When his cock sprang free—thick and already leaking—she let out a hungry little moan.
Yoruichi didn't tease. She wrapped her lips around him and took him deep in one smooth motion, her throat opening to swallow him to the base. The teacher's head fell back, a guttural groan tearing from his chest.
"Fuck—"
She pulled back slowly, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, then slammed forward again. Her pace was aggressive, almost desperate, wet choking sounds filling the classroom as she worked his shaft with single-minded intensity. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto those straining tits.
Her golden eyes never left his face. She stared up at him through her lashes, moaning around his cock like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. The vibrations made him curse, his hands fisting at his sides.
"That's it," he growled, finally grabbing her ponytail in one rough fist. "Take it all, you filthy little whore."
He started to move, fucking her face with sharp, shallow thrusts that made her gag beautifully. Yoruichi didn't resist—she just opened her throat wider, her hands coming up to grip his thighs as he used her mouth. Mascara ran down her cheeks in black rivers, mixing with the drool and tears to create a perfectly debauched mess.
"Look at you," he panted, his hips snapping faster. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be put in your place? To choke on teacher's cock like the desperate little slut you are?"
Yoruichi moaned her agreement, the sound vibrating through his shaft. Her lips stretched obscenely around his girth, her tongue working the underside even as he fucked her throat raw.
His grip on her ponytail tightened brutally, fingers tangling in that purple silk as he yanked her head back at a sharper angle. The new position forced her throat open even wider, and he started fucking her face with a ferocity that made the desk behind them rattle.
"Fucking take it," he snarled, his hips pistoning forward with punishing force. Each thrust drove him deeper, her nose pressing against his pelvis before he pulled back just enough to let her gasp for air—then slammed home again.
Yoruichi's eyes rolled back, tears streaming freely now as mascara carved dark rivers down her cheeks. Thick ropes of saliva connected her swollen lips to his shaft every time he withdrew, the wet, obscene sounds of her choking filling the classroom like music. Her hands had fallen from his thighs, hanging limp at her sides as she surrendered completely to his brutal pace.
"This is what happens," he growled between ragged breaths, "when you don't learn your fucking lesson."
He held her head still with both hands now, using her mouth like a toy, his balls slapping against her chin with every savage thrust. Her throat convulse around his member.
The teacher's rhythm grew erratic, his grip on Yoruichi's ponytail tightening until she whimpered. His balls drew up tight, his whole body tensing—
"Swallow it," he commanded through gritted teeth. "Swallow every fucking drop."
He buried himself to the hilt and came with a roar, his cock pulsing against her tongue as he emptied himself down her throat. Yoruichi's eyes rolled back, her throat working frantically to swallow the flood of cum. Some of it escaped, dribbling from the corners of her stretched lips and dripping onto her heaving chest.
When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva and cum connected his softening cock to her swollen lips. Yoruichi gasped for air, her makeup ruined, her uniform disheveled, looking absolutely wrecked.
And still she smiled up at him, licking her lips clean with deliberate slowness.
"Mmm." She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "Is that all you've got, sensei?"
The teacher's eyes darkened. His cock, impossibly, was already stirring back to life.
"We're not done yet." He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. "Not even close."
He yanked at her shirt, buttons popping free and scattering across the classroom floor like tiny white bullets. "Strip. Now. Everything but the bra and that slutty little thong."
Yoruichi's fingers moved to obey, peeling the ruined shirt from her shoulders and letting it fall. Her skirt followed, sliding down those impossibly long legs until she stood before him in nothing but purple lace and those black stilettos. The shoes made her legs look even longer, her ass even more perfectly presented now that her body was free to be admired. The purple bra struggled to contain her tits, the lace barely covering her dark nipples.
"Better." He grabbed her hips and spun her around, shoving her forward over his desk. Papers scattered, a coffee mug crashed to the floor, but neither of them cared. "This is where you belong. Bent over, waiting to be used."
His hand found her thong and yanked it aside roughly, exposing her dripping pussy to the cool classroom air. She was soaked—absolutely drenched—her arousal coating her inner thighs and glistening under the studio lights.
"Look how wet you are," he groaned, dragging his cock through her slick folds. "Fucking desperate for it."
"Then stop teasing and fuck me already, sensei." Yoruichi pushed her hips back, grinding against him. "Or are you all talk?"
He slammed into her without warning, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Yoruichi's scream echoed off the walls, her back arching as her fingers clawed at the desk's surface.
"Oh fuck—" she gasped, her whole body shaking. "Yes, yes, just like that—"
He didn't give her time to adjust. His hips snapped forward in a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her harder against the desk. The wooden legs scraped against the floor, the whole piece of furniture shaking with the force of his fucking.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He grabbed her ponytail again, yanking her head back until her spine curved like a bow. "To get fucked like the dirty little slut you are?"
"God yes," she moaned, her voice breaking on every word. "Harder, sensei, please—I need it harder—"
He obliged, his free hand coming down on her ass with a crack that made her clench around him. The sensation ripped a groan from his throat, his pace growing even more savage.
"Tight little cunt," he snarled. "Made to be fucked. Made to be filled. Say it."
"I'm made to be fucked," Yoruichi whimpered, pushing back to meet every thrust. "Made to be your little fuck toy, sensei—use me, please, I'll do anything—"
"Anything?" He pulled out suddenly, leaving her empty and whining. Before she could protest, he flipped her onto her back, shoving her legs apart and hooking her ankles over his shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and they both groaned at the sensation.
"Anything," she repeated breathlessly, her golden eyes glazed with lust as she stared up at him. "I'm yours, sensei. My pussy is yours. Just don't stop—"
He drove into her again, watching her tits bounce with every thrust, barely contained by that purple lace. Her heels dug into his shoulders, her hands scrambling for purchase on the desk as he fucked her into oblivion.
"That's right," he panted, his thumbs pressing into her hips hard enough to bruise. "You're my fuck toy now. My personal little whore. Whenever I want this pussy, you spread your legs and take it."
"Yes, yes, yes—" Her words dissolved into incoherent moans, her head thrashing against the desk. "I'll spread for you anytime, anywhere—just keep fucking me like this—"
He pulled her up suddenly, sitting back in his chair and dragging her into his lap. She sank onto his cock with a desperate cry, her thighs bracketing his hips as she started to ride him.
"Show me," he demanded, his hands gripping her ass and spreading her cheeks. "Show me what a good little fuck toy does."
Yoruichi braced her hands on his shoulders and started to move—rolling her hips in slow, filthy circles before bouncing on his cock with increasing desperation. Her tits pressed against his chest, that purple bra the only barrier between their skin.
"Like this, sensei?" She was panting now, her movements growing erratic. "Is this how you want your toy to fuck you?"
"Just like that." He thrust up to meet her, driving impossibly deeper.
His hands found the clasp of her bra and tore it away with a savage yank that made the delicate lace scream in protest. The ruined garment fell somewhere behind them—neither of them cared where.
He was staring at her chest with a nasty hunger in his eyes.
Her tits were fucking magnificent—full and heavy, dark nipples already pebbled into stiff peaks that begged to be touched. The contrast of that rich, mahogany skin against the classroom's golden lighting made them look almost edible. They heaved with her ragged breathing, swaying slightly with each desperate inhale.
"God damn," he breathed, one hand coming up to cup the weight of her left breast. His thumb traced a slow circle around the areola, watching the nipple tighten even further in response. "These are perfect. Fucking perfect."
Yoruichi arched into his touch, a needy whine escaping her throat. "Please, sensei—"
"Shh." He squeezed gently, watching the flesh yield beneath his fingers. "I'm admiring my property."
His mouth descended on her right nipple without warning, and Yoruichi's whole body jerked like she'd been electrified. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing just hard enough to make her gasp, while his hand continued its merciless attention to the other breast.
"Sensei—" Her voice cracked, her hips grinding down on his cock in desperate, jerky movements. "Oh god, that feels—"
He bit down gently, and she screamed.
Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, her whole body shuddering as the sensation shot straight from her nipples to her core. He could feel her getting wetter, her arousal dripping down his shaft and pooling on his thighs.
"Sensitive little slut," he murmured against her skin, switching to the other breast. His tongue traced a wet path across her sternum before finding its new target. "I bet I could make you cum just from this."
"Please—" She was babbling now, her nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "Please, I need—"
"What do you need?" He pulled back just enough to look at her face—flushed, desperate, utterly wrecked. "Tell sensei what his little toy needs."
"I need to cum," she whimpered, her hips rolling frantically. "Please let me cum, I'll be good, I'll be so good—"
"But not before you take my cum first. Every fucking drop. That's what toys are for."
"Please," she begged, her walls starting to flutter around him. "Please cum inside me, fill me up, I need it—"
His rhythm shattered, his hips jerking as he buried himself as deep as he could go. The first pulse of his release triggered her own orgasm, her pussy clamping down on him like a vice as she screamed her pleasure to the ceiling.
They came together, wave after wave of release flooding through them both. He emptied himself inside her, his cock throbbing as her walls milked him dry. Yoruichi collapsed against his chest, trembling and gasping, cum already starting to leak from where they were still joined.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then the teacher grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his eyes.
"So," he said, "are you going to behave yourself from now on?"
Yoruichi's lips curved into that devastating smirk, her golden eyes still glazed but sparkling with something that read perfectly on camera. She rolled her hips one last time, feeling him twitch inside her despite being spent.
"Not if it means I can't have more of this." she purred.
"CUT!"
Valentino's voice cracked through the studio like a whip, and the red recording lights blinked off in unison. The moth demon was already striding across the set, all four arms spread wide in triumphant celebration, his wings unfurling behind him like a cape of victory.
"That's a fucking wrap, people!" He clapped two hands together while the other two gestured wildly at the crew. "Did you see that? Did you see what we just captured? That's gold—no, that's fucking platinum!"
The crew erupted into motion around him, but Valentino barely noticed. His antennae quivered with barely contained excitement as he watched the male talent help Yoruichi off the desk, her legs visibly shaking. His cum was already dripping down her inner thighs, leaving glistening trails against that dark mahogany skin.
Perfect, he thought, smoke curling from between his sharp teeth. Absolutely fucking perfect.
"You!" He snapped his fingers at a nearby assistant—some spider demon with too many eyes and not enough initiative. "Take Miss Shihōin down to the Pink Kitty she need to promote this in person. Get her cleaned up, get her something to eat, and tell the floor manager she's working VIP tonight."
The assistant scrambled to obey, already reaching for Yoruichi's arm. "Yes, Mr. Valentino, right away—"
"And make sure she's in something that shows off those tits!" Valentino called after them. "None of that conservative bullshit. I want every sinner in that club throwing money at her before midnight!"
Yoruichi glanced back over her shoulder as she was led away, that empty, obedient smile still plastered across her beautiful face. Cum continued to leak down her legs with every step, leaving a trail of evidence that made Valentino's chest swell with possessive satisfaction.
Mine, he thought. All fucking mine.
He waited until she disappeared through the studio doors before turning back to the chaos of the set. Crew members were already breaking down equipment, archiving footage, preparing for the editing process that would turn raw fucking into polished product. But Valentino's attention had already moved on.
He reached into his coat and withdrew the grimoire, its leather binding warm against his gloved fingers. The ancient text seemed to pulse with approval, the symbols on its cover writhing in what he could only interpret as excitement.
"You and me, baby," Valentino murmured, stroking the cover like a lover. "That was just us getting started."