#demonxhuman

A while back I wrote a story about a demon who visits a girl's terrace/balcony and now I live in a place with the exact same terrace as the story so I had to do this.

Please don’t repost/pin/trace/edit/use as pfp

You jolt from a sound sleep when you hear the sound of footsteps trotting across the hardwood floorboards. Squinting into the inky darkness, your eyes take a moment to adjust before you can make out a small, squat shadow standing next to your bed.

You glance to your side where the dog had once lain, and he is nowhere to be seen.

"Azazel?" You groggily murmur, but the silhouette doesn't move.

Whatever it is stands stock still, and you feel the hair on your arms prickle with fear. Reluctantly, your hand slowly slides to the side of your headboard, blindly feeling for the box of matches without taking your wary eyes off of the figure. Your fingers close around the square package, and you keep your movements slow and deliberate as you fish one out to light the wax candle on your nightstand.

Striking the match, flickering light erupts from the end to paint the figure's visage in gold and shadow. You make out a short and broad muzzle with beady dark eyes, framed by coarse wool.

Were you so exhausted after working today that you had carelessly left not only the sheep's pen open, but the front door as well?

FUCK. Your Master will be furious if he has to round up the animals which are no doubt loose all over the property now.

Sitting up in preparation to try to shoo it out of your room, you draw back the covers and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

"Sorry, but you can't stay here. You're lucky Azazel didn’t-"

The room spins as the sheep opens its mouth in what seems to be slow motion and screams, sending your heart plummeting into icy waters.

It doesn't sound even vaguely reminiscent of an animal- what rips through your eardrums sounds like the long, agonized wail of a dying man's final proclamation. Your hair stands on end and your pulse kicks wildly as adrenaline floods your veins.

You're frozen- your limbs are dead weight as you watch in horror as the creature then grows, its legs extending with bony snaps and pops, bending at impossible angles, its wool sloughing away from flesh. It rises from the ground onto human legs, back hunched as arms hang loosely at its sides, weighted by heavy steel manacles and chains. Slowly, it turns towards you.

'Oh, gods…'

It's not a sheep. It's a man.

You want to scream, but your vocal chords only manage to produce a strangled wheeze of terror.

So emaciated is he that you can count his rib bones. Waxy, sallow skin is loosely draped over his skeleton, and he is wearing the barest of tattered rags like a beggar. It hardly seems necessary for someone so feeble to be bound and shackled.

He trembles, so weak and malnourished, his sunken eyes meeting yours, as though he is pleading for his life. And what precious little life he has left is but a dim glimmer in his glassy gaze.

"How can you sit idly by, and watch him do this to us?" He whimpers an accusation, a single tear spilling free, carving a clean streak down the gaunt contour of his cheek.

The raw fear in his eyes twists an icy thorn into your heart. It is a desperation that you recall seeing in reflected back at you in the mirror before you were rescued- it is that of an animal which has been trapped, cornered, and has nothing left to lose.

Your tongue is numb and thick in your mouth.

"He's ripping our skins off!" He bellows in agony, his fragile frame slumping as a heart-wrenching sob tears from his lungs. "Why are you helping that monster?!"

Chapped, pale lips part with a gasp as he then freezes, still as stone.

Eyes bulging and bloodshot, only his lower jaw dares to quiver in fear. Suddenly, he is silent as the grave- as though he can sense the shadow of death itself swooping in to swallow him alive. Even the walls of the room seem to hold their breath, causing the air around you to grow stale and heavy.

Liquefied fear trickles over your scalp, and your heart thunders in your ears. A dizzying wave of dread floods into your gut as it dawns on you who he is afraid of.

"Because she's such a good girl." A venomous hiss sizzles through the air, and like a tombstone's shadow, the daunting figure of Demiurge towers behind him. Stone cold terror charges through your veins as your Master's lips skin back into a wicked grin, his fangs glinting wetly in the candlelight. The Devil's eyes glow from within, like the furious, white-hot fires produced from the birth of a star.

The sound of a dozen blades being drawn reaches your ears, and the man's eyes beam hopelessly into yours.

"Run." The man whispers, and all ten of your Master's scythed talons burst violently through his chest, and it looks as though he has been impaled on a pair of pitchforks. Hot blood splatters over your face and arms.

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You can read chapter 1-33 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904596/chapters/62954236

A Down Payment - Marrow

Nox accepts a job that  surprises everyone involved. Except for the giant snake woman. Read time: 25 minutes. (4,326 words.)

Read time: 5 minutes

(782 words)

Nox gets a flesh-wound, and Aaron gets a reminder.

In this chapter, we got a bit of a dark twist.

Finally Mr. Green is showing is true colors, in a steamy way though.

^///^