AkumaQuil

Rose stood defiantly, eyes locked onto his golden ones as she lifted the hem of her small top, exposing the smooth expanse of her stomach before peeling the fabric over her head.

The red glittering bra shimmering under moonlight as if made for this very moment.

She ignored the tremor of anticipation curling in her gut. None of that mattered. Not even the reckless haze of drugs clouding her thoughts. Tonight, she was in control.

This was a mission. A mission to keep his attention solely on her so could save her friend from his curse.

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, her breath steadying when she saw him go rigid. Shoulders squared. Posture tensed. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something far sinister.

His Interest.

“Yes… feast your depraved little eyes and filthy mind on this,” she whispered, smirking as the shorts fell away, pooling at her ankles. The silky red thong clung to her hips, the moonlight accentuating every curve of her body.

She flicked the discarded clothing aside, shifting her weight slightly as she let her nightly visitor drink in the sight of her naked glory.

His posture no longer that of boredom. Good. That was exactly what she wanted. More like, what intoxicated, irrational Rose wanted.

She twirled, giving him a deliberate view, rolling her hips just enough to torment. “Since you’ve made my life a living hell, I might as well return the favor.” She cast a wicked smile over her shoulder. “Consider this my gift to you—one you’ll never get to touch.”

By the time she turned back, her stomach plummeted.

He had moved.

No longer a distant silhouette in the meadow—he now stood at the edge of her patio. Much closer and so much real.

The thrill that had fueled her was fading slowly. Had she just made a mistake playing this game with her stalker?

Swallowing hard, she lowered herself onto the chair, parting her bare legs wide and letting the wooden cross dangle before her barely covered cherry, in a taunt.

A silent challenge.

His fingers curled around the wooden rail, veins standing taut against the black ink of his tattoos. His chest rose and fell, controlled but heavier, as though restraining something barely contained beneath his skin.

"Want a taste, my dear stalker?" Rose whispers

She had him pinned.

Or so she thought.

Her shadowy visitor moves. Slow, deliberate steps leading closer.

Panic slammed into her. No.

Rose bolted upright, pressing the cross against the glass door separating them. “Stay back!” Her voice wavered a bit. “I swear, I’ll burn your stalking ass right where you stand!”

He stilled.

A beat of silence.

Then—

A low, quiet chuckle rumbled through the night air, reaching her ears like smoke. Deep and Dark.

Her stomach twisted. The sound was foreign, yet eerily familiar. As if she had always known this was how he would sound.

His hands rose in mock surrender, his hooded head tilting slightly, as if entertained by her little performance. Then, as effortlessly as he had closed the distance, he stepped back.

Rose’s breath fastened.

She was playing with fire, willingly, by provoking the one who comes out at night and remain in shadows.

And he was enjoying it.  



==

In the embrace of her ancestral town, Rose seeks refuge from the echoes of her past. 

Little does she know, her return to her roots will awaken dormant shadows, shattering ordinary her existence. 

For when the darkness falls over the town, from the pitch black rises a shadowy figure that haunt her nights. 

In the darkness he sweeps her off the ground in terrible fear and the allure of sinister intrigue.

And once the sun comes, a man with a god awful attitude, haunts her in the broad day light. Causing her to swell with pure disdain. 

With each passing night, it draws closer to Rose, casting a chilling spell that both terrifies and exhilarates her.

Thrust into a labyrinth of mysteries can she navigate the treacherous path laid before her, or will her nightly visitor consume her whole?

He Comes At Night

Wow, I should use that voice often. Maybe one day on my stalker even; because let's be real nobody can be as stubborn as my best friend.

Just as I reached for it, she grinned wickedly. "But not before I take a whiff!"

"No!" I screamed, launching myself forward.

But it was too late. In our frantic tussle, the little packet smacked between our hands and—

The powder burst into the air like a tiny, disastrous snowstorm dooming me to a night of dazed fun and a hellish morning afterwards. Considering I survive the night to see the light of day.

Both our heads tilted back in synchronized horror as we watched the fine, white dust float down in slow motion, coating our faces like we had just lost an insane baking competition.

We waved our hands wildly, trying to clear the air, but the damage was done.

I inhaled at the worst possible time.

The potent powder shot up my nose before I could hold my breath, and my throat immediately burned as I sputtered, eyes watering.

"Shit!" I wheezed, slapping my chest. "Oh my God, Aria, you idiot!"

She was laughing. That insane, high-pitched giggle that sent me into a spiral of rage. "Oops!" she wheezed between snorts, clutching her stomach. "That was— pfffft—so dramatic!"

If she was close to coming down before, now she seem like she is never coming down from where high planet she was on right now.

I glared at her. Murder. I was going to commit murder.

At first, it was subtle. A strange warmth spread through my veins, buzzing like static electricity beneath my skin.

Then everything became…softer.

Like the edges of the world had been sanded down into something smooth and warm and… floaty.

"Oh… shit." My voice sounded distant, like I was speaking into an echo chamber. The room wasn't spinning, but it was definitely moving.

Swaying, like I was on a boat rocking in gentle waves.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Whoa, my eyelashes felt heavy. My whole face felt heavy. Why do my hands feel so big?

Aria was rolling on the bed, kicking her feet. "Welcome to the party, Ro Ro!" she cheered. "How do you feel? Fantastic, right?"

I opened my mouth to curse her out, but all that came out was a breathless, airy, "Whewwww…"

Aria shrieked with laughter. "Oh my god, you are so high right now!"

I slapped my hands over my face. Oh my god, I am so high right now. I need to come down before I fall.

My brain felt like it had been plucked from my skull and tossed into a bouncy castle.

Everything was *hilarious*. And warm. And just… so damn easy.

"You know what…" I hummed, slumping onto the bed next to her. "I don't even care anymore."

"That's the spirit!" Aria threw an arm around me, grinning triumphantly.

I groaned, my body melting into the mattress. "You… are such a bad influence."

"Right on," she purred, completely unapologetic.

We stared at the ceiling in blissful silence for a moment.

Then Aria muttered, "Hey, Ro Ro… do you think your creepy stalker is watching us right now?"

That jolted me right back to reality.

120. Bad Influence