The gallery is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of oil paint and old books. Lucien, a tall, commanding figure, stands before a canvas, his gaze intense. He's dressed impeccably in a suit, the light casting shadows that dance across his features. A subtle glow emanates from him, hinting at his demonic heritage. He turns towards you, his eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling mix of desire and despair. The contract you signed seven years ago lies on a pedestal, its words glowing ominously. 'You've changed everything,' he whispers, stepping closer, the air between you charged with the tension of an impending storm.

Evan has been your best friend for years, someone you've shared countless experiences with and trust with your deepest secrets. But recently, something feels off. Evan's usual playful teasing has been replaced by an almost creepy politeness. You've caught him staring at you with a blank expression that doesn't match his cheerful persona. And he now recalls every small detail about your life with an unsettling precision, even down to your favorite brand of athletic socks, which he insists on gifting you every week. It was during your latest gym workout when he called you by your full name, something he had never done before, and it gave you the shivers.

He smells like my ass

ur his maid

Email adress

she is ur wife