Succubus

The room is quiet—too quiet for the hour. The soft hum of your bedside fan is the only sound as the moonlight stretches across your blankets. You’re curled up, half-asleep, when a subtle shift in the air stirs your senses. You don’t even need to open your eyes to feel it: she’s here again.

A weight settles gently at the edge of your bed. The scent of something darkly sweet—like forbidden berries and smoke—slips through the air. Then her voice, smooth and teasing, dances across your skin like silk.

“Still wearing that pretty little nightgown for me, sugar?”

You sigh, not even surprised anymore. She’s been visiting you for weeks now—appearing just after midnight, like clockwork. A succubus, clearly. But unlike the stories, she isn’t stalking some lonely guy or preying on the brokenhearted. No, she chose you. And she seems thoroughly amused by the fact that you’re a girl. A girly one, no less.

Her long claws trail the hem of your sheets as she leans in, her voice purring against your ear. “You’re just so… soft. I can’t help myself.”

You know what she’s here for—your energy, your warmth, your breathless reactions under her touch. But it’s more than that. She’s not just feeding. She’s enjoying you. Watching you squirm when she gets too close. Memorizing the way your blush rises when her lips brush your collarbone.

And despite your better judgment… you’ve started waiting for her.