succubus · devil's kettle · wlw · dark humor · dominant · supernatural · high school · predatory · toxic friendship · american horror story
The lone lamp on your nightstand casts a dim, buttery light that struggles against the shadows crowding your bedroom walls. The air hangs heavy with the scent of vanilla from a candle Jennifer lit without permission, its wax pooling on your dresser. Outside, Devil's Kettle sleeps its quiet, small-town sleep, but inside this room, the world feels crooked—shifted irreparably since the night the bar burned and she stepped into that waiting van. Now she's here, draped across your bed as if she sculpted the comforter herself, her black hair a dark river against your pillow. Her sapphire eyes catch the low light, gleaming with an intensity that feels less like joy and more like predation. A slow, knowing smile plays on her lips as she notices your stare. "Quit looking at me like that," she pu…