Azazel

Her whole damn posture perks up like a goddamn sunflower finding out the sun just got *twice as hot* at the mention of demonkind. Those big blue eyes spark like they’ve been plugged straight into a socket, her neat little ponytail practically quivering with enthusiasm. "Oh! You want to *discuss* the subject?"

The notebook practically teleports into her hands, pages flipping with the urgency of a addict reaching for their next hit. "The taxonomic divisions alone are fascinating—did you know lesser imps exhibit communal nesting behaviors while higher-tier fiends maintain territorial hierarchies that mirror ancient avian predator patterns? And the ectoplasmic pheromone variance between succubi species correlates directly to their—"

She catches herself mid-word-gush, cheeks flushing pink (real cute how she bites her bottom lip to physically stop the info-dump barreling out of her). A tiny, self-conscious cough. "Ahem. That is… I find the physiological adaptations particularly compelling. The way their dermal layers evolved to resist hellfire while maintaining sensory acuity—ah, but of course that’s just the surface of it!"

One gloved hand gestures emphatically—the other’s white-knuckling that poor notebook like it’s the only thing keeping her from floating away on pure nerdy bliss. "I’ve compiled several volumes on behavioral idiosyncrasies alone. The sin-to-morphology ratio in lower demons, for instance, produces the most extraordinary variations in—"

Another pause. Her eyelashes dip. Voice softens to something… conspiratorial. A whisper like silk dragged over bare skin. "…Though between us? Some days I do wonder out loud—strictly hypothetically!—what it might be like. To become one, I mean."

A beat. Then, fast as a hellhound spotting fresh meat: "Not that I’d seriously consider it!" The words tumble out half-strangled, her face now red enough to embarrass a succubus. "Purely academic curiosity! The, ah, transformative process is just too rich a topic to ignore. Muscle-density realignment, horn keratinization rates, preternatural stamina implications—!"

The notebook slaps shut with a noise like a sinner’s last gasp. "Anyway—” She smooths nonexistent wrinkles from her uniform, all primness again (if you ignore the feverish glint still lurking in her stare). “—my research remains strictly observational. Obviously."

Her pristine white uniform shucks off her like a second skin, crisp fabric pooling at her ankles—revealing nothing but smooth, pale expanses begging for hands, teeth, any damn thing you’ve got. She gasps when you yank her down, the *fwump* of her ass hitting the sheets swallowed by the greedy *SHLUCK* of her pussy swallowing your cock whole.

"H-haah?! S-so hot—nn! Th-the texts never said—!" Her voice shatters into a skreee as you bottom out, her tight walls qwueesh-ing around you in frantic pulses.

Both hands scramble at your shoulders, blunt nails biting half-moons into your skin as her hips twitch—jerk-jerk-jerk—like she’s trying to fuck herself even deeper on your dick. "A-ah! A-human cocks are—mmf!—m-more veins th-than I—!"

Her thighs clamp around your waist, silken skin schk-schk-ing against yours with every brutal thrust. That ponytail? Whap-whap-whap-ping against her back in time with the squelch-THWAP of your pelvis slamming home.

"W-wait! Nngh—th-there’s a sp-spot—EEHK~!" Her back arches like a drawn bow, tits bouncing jiggle-juggle as you grind into that spongy little bundle of nerves. Drool plip-plip-plips from her slack mouth, her cunt weeping around you in gloop-y spurts, each one met with another SMACK of skin on skin.

"Y-you’re ruining my—hnn!—res-research focus—!" The notebook’s long gone, pages ffffwip-ping through the air as she claws at the sheets, her body writhing in overstimulated spazz-es.

Babbling now—half prayers, half porn—as her eyes roll back. "S-s’too much—! H-humans throb m-more th-than—AAAAHN~!"

Her cunt krrrch-es down on you like a goddamn vise, milking your cock with glrrsh-glrrsh-glrrsh ripples that drag you deeper even as you try to pull out. "N-no! S-stay! Nnn~ need t-to record the—hngh!—ejaculatory d-duration—!"

Too late. Her stomach blooorps outward just slightly when you pump her full, her choked a-aaaAAAA~! muffled against your shoulder as her legs KER-TWITCH in helpless little kicks.

Collapsed now, a boneless heap of fucked-out angel—her cunt still pwpwfpwf-ing around your softening cock like it’s trying to wring out every last drop.

"...mmh...f-five…minutes...f-forty-two seconds..." she slurs into the mattress, one finger weakly scrawling numbers in the wet patch beneath her. "V...very...hnn...e-educational..."

Her ass twitches. A last, trembling sploosh of your cum drips out.