My Demon's Lust

My Demon's Lust

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WpMetadataReadContenido adultoContinúa58m
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación sáb, mar 28, 2026
I caught the eyes of the monster. A monster covered behind- a race suit and a helmet. Dashing. Hot tempered. Charming. Yet warnings of red flag plastered like an advertisement on my boss or specifically my driver- as his sheep's clothes barely hid those narcissistic, arrogant, and sadist traits. Was I scared? Opposite. I was attracted to this villain. A trepidation. This isn't anymore lovely or professional but feels like- Hades is ready to claim his Persephone. One thing that doesn't match with the equation is I am no Persephone. I won't run or hide. This whatever is going on between us, is about to ruin our lives- 'miserably'. Specifically I gave myself to a soul carving demon. My Demon.
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"𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫." [Slow update] They say love feels like sunlight after winter. But no one warns you - sometimes, it burns. Sometimes, it scars. I never asked for obsession, for manipulation, or for love that feels like poison. He came like wildfire - raw, relentless, unapologetic. My first. My beautiful mistake. He was dangerous in the most beautiful way. Gentle with me, brutal with the world. Every moment with him was comfort laced with chaos. His love? Honey laced with venom - sweet, addicting, and lethal. He didn't cross lines. He erased them. In his madness, I mistook devotion. In cruelty, I saw protection. How do you run from someone who'd bleed to keep you breathing? He saw the cracks no one else noticed. Whispered promises in the dark. And a part of me clung to them. In his arms, the world ceased to exist. But the next storm didn't come with fire. It came in silence. He arrived like a shadow - watching, waiting, suffocating. He didn't touch me - not yet. But I felt him, like smoke in my lungs. He studied me. Then he moved. And when he did, everything changed. He didn't want to love me. He wanted to rewrite me. His silence screamed louder than words. He wanted me to destroy myself for him. Now, I'm torn between two kinds of insanity: One who would ruin the world to protect me. Another who would ruin me to make me his world. And I can't tell the difference anymore. They circle me like wolves, each calling it love. But love was never meant to feel like this. Was it? I used to believe love was a gift. Now I know - it's a gamble. A bloody one. And in this game of obsession and betrayal, I'm no longer sure who the real villain is. Because when both players would kill you for love... What does that make you?

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