WTF Did I Do

Succumb, My Love

When the three hellions reach the ballroom the scene is just a gruesome as before. Taking everything in with wide eyes, Taehyung's heart clenches in regret and horror at the dark mass hovering over his charges. He can feel the echoes of pain and hurt in his soul, their magicks battering around against the tattered walls, searching for a way to break free and escape the mind breaking torture. For a moment-barely a second-Taehyung lets himself feel everything. For a dreadful moment the incubus lets the miasma invade his senses. Darkness spreads through his chest, radiating outwards until it barely grazes his torn soul. Immediately the miasma goes to work, weaving strands of agony and delicately stitching over the patchwork. There's nothing warm about the contact, just methodical repair work but Taehyung still breaks out in shivers, his stomach clenching in anticipation when his fingertips start to tingle. Heaven and hell, it feels so damn good to let go. To embrace the darkness of his nature, to see his true self. He barely registers two pairs of hands on his body, holding him up and attempting to break him out of his trance but he ignores them, instead feeling his body heat up even more under the touches. He knows that he's supposed to do something, that there's something urgent he's suppose to take care of but, right now, he could care less. The incubus in him is still starved and with each push and pull of the miasma in his soul notches the lust bubbling in his stomach up higher. Heaven and hell, he needs. His body is practically vibrating with the instinct to take from his charges writhing in pure agony, bodies perfectly exposed and on display, beckoning him to touch them. His hands tremble with the one minded urge to drag his claws through their skins, adding to their pain.

The chaos inside him blinks its eyes, the sleepy nature slowly growing more alert as it uncoils deep inside the recess of chest. It's been decades since he's felt like this, so complete and perfectly him. It feels like coming home, the chaos having been locked away, shoved deep down into a tomb weighted down under layers and layers of unbreakable chains and tons of concrete to prevent it from overtaking Taehyung's soul. It required an immense amount of effort and the contribution of all three of his creators to lock away majority of his nature, putting Chaos into a heavy slumber so the incubus doesn't accidently destroy everything on a whim, overwhelmed by his uncontrollable nature. But now it's awake and alert, stretching out and invading the space within his soul, searching lazily for his magic, gently pushing against cage, testing its restrictions.

The heavy chains on the tomb fall apart, like ripples of water, and the darkness takes a deep breath for the first time since its imprisonment, and fuck, Taehyung can hardly remember why his nature was locked away in the first place. His soul pulses with heat that shoots straight to Taehyung's groin when Chaos runs a dark finger lightly over the tears in his soul, almost making his knees give out at the intense contact. Take what you want, sire, it whispers into Taehyung's ears, the poisonous split tongue flickering out to trace his ear. Taehyung's entire body burns with lust, almost mindless to follow and give in to his true nature. The darkness redirects his attention to his hellions littering the floor. He feels them weakening, exhaustion heavily weighting down the thrashing of their magicks against the miasma's assault on their hosts. Heaven and hell, Taehyung wants nothing more than to crawl towards them, licking and biting harshly, just to satisfy his sadistic nature's desire to torture them more, stealing their everything to repair his damaged soul. He flickers his tongue out, pleased to taste a hint of confused arousal rise amidst the agony as his own lust travels through his bond with his charges, imposing his will on their wrecked minds.

The miasma works faster, and Taehyung lets of a soft growl. He licks his lips, swallowing against the dryness in his throat, wanting nothing more than to sink his fangs into the vulnerable throats, exposed and begging for his marks, trailing up until he can slip his tongue into their open mouths, swallowing down their silent screams of pain as he pounds into them and rides them over the edge of oblivion, taking himself and the hellions apart over and over again while his body repairs itself completely.