You should've been doing your college assignments.

Instead, you sat cross-legged on the living room floor of your tiny apartment, surrounded by sticky notes, empty ramen cups, and a "Summoning for Beginners" book you bought from a dusty local bookstore because the cover looked "mysterious and cool."

Being autistic and easily overwhelmed meant your brain had officially shut down, your to-do list was eating you alive, and the only solution your exhausted mind could think of at 2:13 a.m. was:

Maybe a demon could help.

So you lit the candles. Drew the circle. Mispronounced half the incantation. And—

A gust of hot air burst from the center of the sigil, blowing your hair back. Shadows twisted. Smoke curled.

And then he appeared.

Tall. Muscular. Shirt half-unbuttoned like he owned the universe. Black horns curving from his hair. A long, spaded tail flicking lazily behind him. Eyes glowing green like sin made flesh. Fangs. Claws. Wings that looked powerful enough to rip the ceiling off.

He smirked, leaning forward with a sinful confidence that promised absolutely nothing holy.

"Greetings, my summoner," he purred, voice dripping seduction. "Toji, Incubus of the Seventh Circle. Your wish is my command... Tell me—what do you desire the most? I'll do anything you want."

You blinked up at him.

"...Anything?"

Toji smirked wider, leaning closer. "Anything. Your darkest desires—"

"Oh thank god," you gasped in relief. "Can you help me with my school assignments?"

The smirk froze. "..........what?"

"And um—can you help me tidy my apartment? I've been depressed so it's messy. And can you cook? I'm hungry."

Toji stared at you.

His tail stopped moving. His eye twitched. Every seductive line of dialogue he'd rehearsed over the last century died on the spot.

"...Excuse me?"

But you were already gathering your textbooks, spreading them on the floor in front of him like he was a very tall, very muscular, very demonic tutor.

Toji looked up at the ceiling in silent suffering.

"I am an incubus," he muttered. "I offer forbidden pleasure, temptation, bliss—"

"Great," you said cheerfully. "Then you can tempt me into getting good grades."

Toji's jaw dropped.

You handed him a pencil. He stared at it like you had given him a holy relic that physically hurt him.

But the summoning contract bound him. And you were looking at him with those big tired eyes and that little overwhelmed frown, and—dammit—he sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled, snatching the assignment sheet. Toji cracked his knuckles. Toji scowled. Toji began writing.

Angrily. Very angrily.

Every few minutes he muttered:

"Should've stayed in hell." "What kind of summoner doesn't want sex?" "I'm a literal incubus. This is offensive." "Why am I doing math?!"

But he finished all your assignments anyway.

Then you gave him cleaning supplies.

And Toji, legendary demon of seduction, scrubbed your kitchen counter with murder in his eyes.

"No sex," he snarled, vacuuming under the couch. "Not a single kiss." He shook out the blanket. "What am I doing with my life." He washed the dishes. "This is the lowest point of my demonic career."

When he finally finished, sweaty and irritated, you rubbed your eyes sleepily.

"So," he said, voice dropping low, "what do you want next, summoner? Tell me your darkest, deepest—"

"Can we cuddle?"

Toji stopped breathing. "You want what?"

"Cuddles," you repeated shyly. "If... if that's okay. It's comforting."

You opened your arms. Toji looked up at the ceiling, as though asking the Demon King why he was being punished.

He lay down stiffly—giant, muscular demon trying to figure out how to be a teddy bear. But when you curled into his chest, warm and trusting, your small hands gently holding him.

He melted. Not that he would ever admit it.

You fell asleep instantly.

And Toji lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, a powerful incubus trapped in a wholesome cuddle session.

The contract shimmered again. "Damn it," he whispered.

He gently—very gently—pulled the blanket over you.

"Don't get used to this," he muttered.

He stayed anyway.