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Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, demon!colby, talk of death/dying, kind of a dark aesthetic, talk of demons, angels, etc. demonic attachment?, compulsion, mentions of police, kissing, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), filth - please read with care 🖤
With the way I wrote it, the reader is hinted at being bisexual - if you have an issue with that, please just move on. No hate or rude comments will be tolerated,
Word Count: 5.4k | Not edited
——
You walked into your apartment, saddened by yet another break up.
You never had issues with dating before. You never had any issues keeping anyone's attention. But, for the last few months, you've been noticing a trend.
You meet a guy, or girl, and it's going well for the first few days, sometime a few weeks, and then you're back to square one because you felt like you needed to break things off, or they just said it wasn't going to work out.
There's never any clear reasoning either. It's always the, it's not you it's me, I promise, and then you both go your separate ways.
You made your way to your bed, ripping the covers forward so you can climb in and pull them up over your body.
You sniffle, allowing the thoughts to take over completely.
Am I boring? Why does this keep happening? Am I annoying? Do I talk too much? Bad breath? Did I say the wrong thing? Am I not pretty enough? What's wrong with me?
You let out a sigh, begging for the thoughts to just shut up, and eventually they do, you start to feel more relaxed, and eventually you fall asleep.
—
Colby stood over the woman's sleeping body for hours, keeping her dreams on the happy side as he manipulates himself into it. He tilts his head, watching you as a small smile spreads across your closed lips.
"Just relax, my love. You're going to be fine."
Your phone buzzing in your sweatshirt pocket wakes you up. It takes a few seconds to register what's happening as you roll over and rub your eyes, but eventually you pull your phone out, "Hello?"
"Where are you rightnow?" Your closest friend, Brooke, practically yells into the phone, "Are you home?"
You keep your eyes closed, still half a sleep as you mumble, "M'home. Sleeping."
"Do you have someone there with you?"
Your eyes snap open and you sit up, "What did you just say?" You reach over, turning your bedside lamp on and you look around as she speaks, "I'm going to take that as a no, so just stay where you are. I'm on my way up, I'm going to call the police."
