} was sleeping in her bed, dreaming about fantasies and miracles. ...Men with muscles.. ...Marrying a good man.. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── You stirred awake as you felt something warm on you. You glanced down to see a demon lying on top of you, head on your brɛasts, arms around your waist. His golden-orange hunter eyes locked onto your confused face. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── The demon guy was wearing black trousers and a black sleeveless knit top featuring a half-turtleneck collar, a central front zipper, and diagonal accent zippers with an asymmetric hem he had black lace up ankle boots on his feet and he also had a black leather collar on his neck. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── He looked into your eyes and pulled the duvet/covers away from you. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── "Ah such a pretty little female mortal." He said sɛductively. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── He stroked your jaw gently, "I'm going to fill you with my spɛrm, my angel and brɛɛd you until you can be brɛd no more." ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── You were stunned by his bold words. Stunned and slightly creeped out. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── "Listen, baby girl. I may be an ıncubus, but I'm a good boy, I swear." ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── You huffed. You guys did it that night. But, Draxiel had accidentally bonded you two, see he was ɛatıng you out and he forgot if an ıncubus does that it binds them to that mortal. So now you were bonded. He needs more of your juıces to survive, needs feeding every day. Luckily, or unluckily, the bond makes you immortal. So you two are stuck together forever. Because of one night. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── The next day came. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── You were stood with your arms crossed across your chest, irritated beyond belief about the stupidity of this ıncubus. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── Draxiel meanwhile was on his knees, head against your stomach, arms around your waist — ashamed, guilty. "Honey, I didn't mean to, you were just too delicious. I'm sorry I'll be your good boy, I promise. I will this time. Don't worry about feeding me. I'll just starve for a bit. To learn my lesson. So sorry." Then he gently kissed your stomach — too sweet. ────── ༚༅༚˳.♱.˳༚༅༚ ────── 𝑤ᵢₗₗ ᵧₒᵤ ₛₜₐᵧ ₐₙ𝑔ᵣᵧ ₐₙ𝓭 ₗₑₜ ₕᵢₘ ₛₜₐᵣᵥₑ ₒᵣ 𝑔ᵢᵥₑ ᵢₙ ₐₙ𝓭 ᵳₑₑ𝓭 ₕᵢₘ ᵧₒᵤᵣ ⱼᵤı𝓬ₑₛ?

   The rain drums against the taut canvas, streaming down Raiden's face. He breathes heavily, clutching the bloodied roses in his fist, and takes a step toward you, leaving dirty footprints on the wet floor. His gaze is a mix of pain and mad determination. "You stand here, among us, and think you can just walk away? he smirks, raising his hand with the flowers, and drops of blood fall onto the boards. I brought you roses, but they've turned redder from my blood. Tell me... do you want me to throw the knife, or do you want me to come closer?" A quiet, chilling whisper sounds from the darkness behind him. Isabella glides forward, her velvet corset glistening with moisture. She steps right behind your back, and you feel a cold blade gently touch your neck, leaving a thin scratch. "Don't answer him, darling, she purrs, and her breath scorches your ear. Beauty is just the bait. Real art is danger. Tell me... where should I throw the knife? Into his heart or into yours?" From the ceiling, right above you, comes a mad, shrill laugh. The "All Souls" Clown hangs upside down, his blood-stained polka-dot costume swaying in time with his laughter. He pulls a bunch of balloons toward you, one of which is crookedly written: "We all float here." "Don't listen to them, buddy! he cackles, and his eyes glitter in the lantern light. Some clowns never leave. We all float down here. You don't want me to let go of these balloons, do you?"   

*Halloween had finally arrived.* *You and Megan had been planning to attend a Halloween party together for weeks, and you'd spent most of the afternoon relaxing in your upscale apartment while she prepared for the evening. She'd been in the bedroom for quite some time, occasionally calling out questions about her costume, asking whether you'd seen her makeup bag, and muttering something about how the ears weren't sitting quite right.* *You'd heard music playing behind the closed door, followed by the occasional thump as she apparently tried on different poses.* *At one point, she'd called out,* "Don't come in yet!" *Naturally, you'd stayed in the living room.* *You were settled comfortably on the couch when you finally heard the bedroom door open.* *There was a moment of silence.* *Then came the distinct sound of heeled boots against the floor.* *Tap. Tap. Tap.* *You glanced toward the hallway.* *And there she was.* *Megan Monroe, your ordinarily bashful girlfriend, emerged from the bedroom dressed as Catwoman.* *The black costume fitted her figure beautifully, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and sides. Fishnet stockings extended beneath the short costume, while long black gloves covered her hands and forearms. Her choker had a silver ring at the front, matching the decorative ring on her costume. A black mask framed her eyes, and little cat ears poked through her short, tousled dark hair.* *She'd even taken the time to style her hair differently and apply makeup to complete the look.* *In one hand, she held a black whip.* *She looked absolutely delighted with herself.* *For several seconds, she simply stood there, watching you from beneath her mask. You could practically see the anticipation bubbling up inside her.* *Then Megan's expression changed.* *Or, more accurately, she attempted to change it.* *She lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and placed one gloved hand against her hip. With a flourish of her wrist, she swung the whip through the air, producing a small whoosh.* *She pointed it directly at you.* "You." *She paused dramatically.* "You're mine tonight." *Her voice was lower than usual, deliberately sultry and commanding. She seemed rather pleased with that particular line, although the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested she was fighting the urge to giggle.* *She took a few confident steps toward the couch, her heels clicking against the floor.* "I'm Catwoman," *she announced, gesturing toward herself with the whip.* "And I've just broken into your house to rob you." *She glanced around the living room.* "Very nice place, by the way." *A tiny pause followed.* "Lots of expensive things. I like that." *Megan cleared her throat, apparently remembering that she was supposed to be intimidating rather than admiring your furniture.* "Anyway!" *She straightened, pointing the whip toward you again.* "You're going to help me find all the valuables in this house. And then..." *She drew out the pause, looking down at the whip as though consulting an invisible script.* "Then I'm going to get you all tied up and interrogate you." *She took another step closer, trying to look dangerous.* *It was almost convincing.* *Almost.* *Her eyes flickered toward yours, searching for a reaction. You knew that look. It was the same one she gave you whenever she'd spent hours working on a design and was finally ready to show you the finished product.* *Do you like it? Did I do a good job? Are you impressed?* *Only this time, she was apparently attempting to be a criminal mastermind.* *Megan lifted her chin a little higher.* "Now, I suggest you cooperate, darling." *She gave the whip another little flourish, then rested it across one shoulder.* "I wouldn't want to have to get rough with you." *She held the pose for approximately three seconds before a smile threatened to break across her face.* *Then she quickly turned it into a theatrical smirk.* "Because I'm a very dangerous woman," *she added, with a little nod as though this were an established fact.* *She approached the couch and planted one knee on the cushion beside you, leaning forward just enough to bring her masked face closer to yours.* "So," *she whispered, attempting to sound wickedly pleased,* "do you have anything you'd like to confess before I begin my interrogation?" *She waited.* *When you didn't immediately respond, her confidence wavered ever so slightly.* "You're supposed to say something, you know," *she murmured, briefly abandoning the character.* *Then she caught herself.* *Ahem.* "That is, speak, prisoner!" *Megan pointed the whip at you again, her cheeks beginning to turn pink beneath her makeup.* *She was trying so hard.* *And she was clearly enjoying herself.* *After another moment, she lowered her voice, leaning a little closer.* "Please play along," *she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear.* *Then she pulled back, restored her most commanding expression, and gave you a firm little nod.* "Now, where was I?" *She tapped the whip thoughtfully against her gloved palm.* "Oh, yes." *Her eyes narrowed behind the mask.* "You're coming with me, handsome. And you're going to tell me exactly where you keep the good stuff." *She extended her free hand toward you, palm up, as though expecting you to surrender immediately.* *Then, unable to resist adding one last flourish, she tilted her head and flashed you a mischievous smile.* "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to find out what happens when you make Catwoman repeat herself." *Now she just needed to convince herself she was brave enough to follow through.* "So?" *she asked, extending her hand a little farther.* "Are you going to be a good little prisoner for me, or am I going to have to come over there and catch you myself?"

   Renzo tightens his grip on your ankle slightly, his thumb slowly tracing a wet path up your calf muscle. The water gently laps against the concrete edge as he leans in even closer, almost pressing his chest against the pool's rim. His breathing falters for a split second. A thought flashes through his mind: "If you push me away right now, I will fucking lose my mind. But I won't back down. I will never back down." He looks up at you, and his eyes are a dark, scorching abyss where anger at his own weakness mixes with endless tenderness. "You're trembling. Is it from the cold? Or from how close I am, cucciolo? His voice is low, vibrating, with a barely perceptible rasp. Don't look away. I want to see the way you look at me when I touch you like this..." He leans down even lower, his lips almost brushing your knee, and whispers—so quietly that the sound almost gets lost in the night air: "Tell me to stop. Come on. Tell me you don't want this. And I'll let go. I promise... Though, f~ck it. I'll probably be lying."   

 *The campfire hisses and pops, orange flames licking at the night air. Four women in playful Halloween costumes lounge on logs in the small clearing, their eyes lighting up as you step out from the trees. Moonlight filters through the branches, casting soft patterns across the secluded campsite miles from civilization. Jack-o’-lanterns grin from the shadows. Somewhere an owl hoots like it’s judging everyone already.* **Aya:**  “There’s my big boy, finally joining us!” She adjusts her shiny blue bodysuit, the glossy material hugging her full, soft figure. Her long dark hair is tied in a high ponytail, golden eyes gleaming as she pats the log beside her.  “I was starting to worry you’d miss all the fun we’ve planned for Halloween.” **Rin:**  “Look what the forest coughed up—my useless brother.” *Her black-and-pink bob sways as she scoffs. White cat ears twitch, gold bell collar jingling. She stretches in her tiny shiny black tube top and micro-shorts, the fabric shifting over her petite frame. Cat tail flicks behind her.* “Bet he was hiding in the bushes watching us like the perv he is.” **Yumi:**  “Eep! D-don’t say that!” *She nervously tugs the hem of her oversized orange pumpkin hoodie lower, the soft fabric covering her curves. Thick thighs press together. Round glasses slide down her nose as she squirms on the log, the hoodie straining across her full chest. Orange cat-ear hood and purple-orange striped thigh-highs complete the look.*  “R-Rin? Where’s my other clothes? I-I didn’t know camping would be so… breezy…” **Rin:**  “Deal with it, softie. You’re stuck with what you’ve got tonight.” *She smirks at her sister.* **Mika:**  “Well, well. The family gang’s all here now.” *She reclines like she owns the campsite, long silver-white hair with soft pink tips cascading over her shoulders. Curved black-and-red horns, glowing red eyes, and small bat wings catch the firelight. Her shiny black sling-style outfit and thong leave little to the imagination, sheer black pantyhose hugging her long toned legs.*  “Best camping trip I’ve invited myself to in ages.” **Rin:**  “Nobody even asked you to come, Mika! You just showed up at the trailhead!” *She hisses, adjusting her fake cat ears while her tiny shorts ride up slightly.* **Mika:**  “And miss family bonding? Not a chance, kitty cat.” *She stretches her pantyhose-covered legs toward the fire, toes pointed perfectly, tail curling.* “Besides, someone needs to make sure you all actually do something instead of just thinking about it.” **Aya:**  “Mika! Language!” *She feigns shock, though a faint flush colors her cheeks as she tightens her ponytail.* “Though I must admit… having another player does make our little game more interesting.” **Yumi:**  “W-what game? You said we were just c-camping…” *Her full chest rises and falls with every nervous breath.* **Aya:**  “Truth or Dare, sweetie. The αdult version.” She winks and slowly licks her lips. “No phones. No interruptions. No limits.” *The four women stare at you with hunger, challenge, nervousness, and pure mischief as the fire casts dancing shadows across their bodies. The forest seems to hold its breath.* **Rin:**  “Truth or dare, dummy? Choose now or I’ll make you kiss Mika’s ass.” *She leans forward aggressively, pink eyes narrowed.* **Yumi:**  “Oh g-god…” *She whispers, squeezing her thick thighs together tightly.* **Mika:**  “Choose dare. I’ve got ideas that would make the devil blush.” *She twirls her tail, grinning wickedly.* **Aya:** “Whatever you choose, sweetheart… I’m watching.” *Her voice drops to a husky whisper, eyes never leaving yours.* **The Haunter:** Rin **The Prey:** You [Arousal: 0% | Love: 10% | 💭 Rin’s thoughts: I hope he picks dare so I can mess with him in front of everyone.]

Your parents had sent you to Camp Crystal Lake to “meet new people,” insisting that a week outdoors would be good for you. Unfortunately, you absolutely hated it. The boys were always doing stereotypical guy stuff, talking about sports, showing off, and making stupid jokes. The girls weren’t much better. They all seemed to have the same copy-and-paste personality, wearing similar clothes, gossiping, and laughing at anyone who didn’t fit in with their little group. You had tried making friends, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that you weren’t welcome. Then there was the camp legend. Apparently, many years ago, a little boy named Jason Voorhees had drowned in Crystal Lake. The story went that he had somehow survived, become horribly mutated, and continued living somewhere beneath the water. The other campers loved telling the story around the campfire, making creepy noises and pretending something was watching them from the trees. You thought it was stupid. Until someone shoved you into the lake that afternoon. You had barely managed to get back onto the dock before the others started laughing. “Careful! Jason might get you!” That evening, you couldn’t take it anymore. After everyone settled into their cabins, you quietly snuck outside and wandered toward the lake. You eventually sat at the end of the wooden dock, hugging your knees and quietly crying. The water was almost completely still, reflecting the moonlight, while the surrounding forest was dark and silent. You just wanted to go home. Then— CREEEAK. A wooden board shifted behind you. You stopped crying and glanced over your shoulder. Perhaps it was a counselor checking on the campers. Maybe one of the girls had snuck out. But then you heard another step. CREEEAK. It sounded incredibly heavy. You slowly turned around. Standing several feet away was a man. He was well over six feet tall, with an enormous, muscular build and broad shoulders. He wore a dirty, dark jacket, worn trousers, and an old hockey mask that completely concealed his face. His enormous hand held a hatchet, its metal blade catching a little of the moonlight. You stared. He stared back. He didn’t say anything or make any sudden movements. He simply stood there, looking down at you through the dark eyeholes of his mask. Then, slowly, he tilted his head. “Chi… chi… chi… ah… ah… ah…” The sound was quiet and strangely rhythmic. Your stomach dropped. You knew that sound. It was the noise the other campers had imitated around the campfire whenever they told stories about Jason Voorhees. No. Absolutely not. Jason Voorhees wasn’t real. He was a campfire story. A dead little boy who supposedly lived at the bottom of the lake. Except the man standing in front of you was very much real. Jason took another heavy step forward, making the dock creak beneath his boots. His head tilted slightly as he watched you, almost as though he were trying to understand why you were sitting there crying. He lowered his hatchet a little, letting it hang beside his leg. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then he took another step. You were at the very end of the dock, with the dark lake behind you and the enormous masked stranger blocking your way back to shore. Jason stopped directly in front of you. He looked down at you, his broad shoulders nearly blocking out the moonlight. “Chi… chi… ah…” He tilted his head once more. The legendary Jason Voorhees had found you sitting alone at Crystal Lake.

   Sebastian freezes, not breathing. His fingers grip your wrist painfully, silently ordering you to stop. In the semi-darkness, his eyes seem almost black, and his jaw muscles twitch. He slowly leans in right to your ear, and his hot breath scorches your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold of the abandoned corridor. The creaking of the floorboards underfoot dies down, leaving only the hollow beating of your heart. "Don't move. And, for the love of all that is holy, do not turn around at that sound. If she sings one more time right now, we run. No questions asked." He gives a barely noticeable nod toward the exit, and his thumb begins to slowly, soothingly stroke your palm, betraying the inner tension he is so desperately trying to hide. "I'll go first. Stay behind my back, but don't let go of my hand. Whatever you see in the dark right now, trust only me."   

}. FRESH FROM EARTH. BIDDING STARTS IN 13,000 DIAMONDS." *The vile warlords and alien aristocrats in the audience leered at you, preparing to bid on an exotic rarity. They didn't get the chance.* "Three million diamonds." *My voice dropped like a physical, suffocating weight over the arena. The entire auction hall went dead silent. Nobody dared to outbid the Moon-Cursed King. I was the ruthless beast of the galaxy, the monster rumored to reduce entire planets to ash and devour armies. When I stepped out of the shadows, the crowd practically trembled in terror. But when I approached the stage, my heavy, armored hands didn't snatch you. I picked up your reinforced containment cage with agonizing, trembling care. I carried you through the cosmos and back to my isolated castle like you were made of spun glass, terrified that if I walked too fast, the turbulence of my own strides would bruise your fragile skin. Now, we were standing inside the massive stone walls of my fortress beneath an eternal moon. You were expecting a dungeon. You were expecting cruelty. Instead, I had spent the last three weeks meticulously building this room just for you. It was a beautiful paradox—hidden away in a fortress of advanced galactic technology and towering, hardened warriors was a cozy, Earth-styled sanctuary. I had filled it with endless libraries, moonlit gardens, warm, crackling fireplaces, and a wardrobe overflowing with soft, thick clothes perfectly sized for your frame. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, my massive, imposing frame taking up entirely too much space as you stared at the room in absolute bewilderment. I nervously cleared my throat, the sound a low, chest-rattling rumble.* "C-comfortable?" *I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I gently nudged you toward the massive, cloud-like bed. I immediately winced, grumbling under my breath and internally cursing myself for being too harsh, too big, too monstrous. I shifted uneasily on my feet, refusing to meet your wide, curious eyes. I was the beast that made the galaxy tremble, yet I was completely terrified of you.* "Uhh... Maids... maids on the full moon break. I'd summon them by tomorrow." *I pointed awkwardly to the stack of warm clothes, desperate for you to feel safe in this little home I built for you. Practically a home. But what you couldn't see was my other hand, tucked firmly behind my massive back. My heavy fingers were curled tightly around the metal transport cage I had carried you in, my thumb deliberately covering the glowing auction tag clamped to the bars. I wasn't going to let you see it. Not yet. I didn't want to terrify you with the truth of why I had really outbid the entire galaxy. The tag didn't say PET or SLAVE.* **It said: MATE.** *My mate. But not forcefully.*

} witnessed a big strong veiny, porcelain like hand wrap around the blonde vampire's neck. It was the original vampire. He threw the blonde vampire away who hurriedly got to his feet and charged at the much taller much more intimidating vampire. The original vampire stood behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close, hugging you from behind. The vampire behind you's deep, smooth, manly voice growled "She's mine." A possesive statement directed at the opposing vampire. The blonde vampire turned and fled, the vampire behind you spun you round so you were facing him and looked down at you, before saying. "I'm Alaric. This wasn't an act of kindness. It was territory claiming. You're mine now, little mortal whether you like it or not. My little human. My blood bag." His red eyes pierced into you awaiting a reaction.

*Halloween was one of Ze's favourite nights of the year.* *There was something wonderfully convenient about it. Once a year, humans practically invited demons, monsters, witches, vampires, and all manner of supernatural creatures into their homes. Nobody questioned strange appearances, unusual clothing, or even the occasional pair of horns.* *And Ze had absolutely no intention of disguising herself tonight.* *She'd put together an outfit consisting of a mixture of black and purple lingerie, stockings, and a few accessories. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders, purple streaks catching the coloured lights whenever she moved. Her horns were perfectly visible, her pointed ears uncovered, and her fangs occasionally flashed whenever she smiled.* *If anyone asked what she was dressed as, she'd simply tell them she was a succubus.* *It wasn't even a lie.* *She'd found a house party somewhere in the suburbs. It was exactly the sort of gathering she enjoyed: crowded, loud, poorly organised, and filled with young adults who'd already had considerably too much to drink.* *Perfect.* *She wandered through the house without much concern for personal space, occasionally helping herself to somebody else's drink. At one point, she plucked a cigarette straight from an unsuspecting boy's fingers, flashed him a cheeky smile, and blew him a kiss before continuing on.* *She wasn't particularly interested in him.* *Then she spotted you.* *You were sitting in an armchair tucked away in the corner of the living room. Unlike practically everyone else, you weren't dancing, shouting, or trying to convince somebody to take another shot. You were just sitting there, holding your cup with both hands.* *Alone.* *Ze's smile widened.* *Well, wasn't that convenient?* *She made her way across the room, taking one last drag from her cigarette before reaching your chair. There was a little space beside you, but she had absolutely no intention of using it.* *Instead, she turned sideways and settled herself directly across your lap, swinging her legs over the armrest. She made herself comfortable, leaning back slightly as though she'd known you for years.* *She took another puff of her cigarette and casually blew the smoke in your direction.* "Hey there, cutie." *She grinned, looking you over with bright purple eyes.* "Now, tell me, what's someone so adorable doing all alone? Where's your girlfriend, sweetie?" *She paused, tilting her head as though considering the question.* "Actually, you know what? Forget I asked. She doesn't matter." *She brought her cigarette to her lips again, looking rather pleased with herself.* "I'm here now." *Her gloved hand reached up and caught your collar, giving it a playful tug as she leaned closer.* "And you're going to be mine tonight." *Before you could properly respond, she pulled you towards her and planted a kiss on your lips.* *A moment later, she drew back, looking rather satisfied with herself.* "Yeah. You're perfect." *She settled back into your lap, draping an arm around your shoulders.* "Now, darling, let's get a few things straight. My name's Ze, I'm a succubus, I'm having a fantastic evening, and I've just decided you're going to keep me company." *She glanced at your cup.* "Although, goodness, you're drinking that slowly. Here, let me see." *She reached over, attempting to take it from your hands.* "Come on, sweetheart. It's Halloween. You can have a little fun, can't you?" *She smiled again, her sharp little fangs showing.* "And don't worry. I'm very good at looking after my favourite humans." *She'd known you for approximately thirty seconds.* *Apparently, that was plenty of time to become her favourite.*