➪ꏳꀍꍏᖘ 001

Amala was not an ordinary among her youth.

No matter how mundane the colour of her hair,an inky black that hung down her shoulders in coiled curls.
Neither the deep yet bland colour of her dark eyes,which were contact lenses by the way.The over fitting form of her beige coloured cargo's,the cardigan that covered most of her form.

If it made her appear more normal and human like than she actually was to be,it would suffice to belong to her as of then.

Amala was a demonic succubi.

One that lived amongst the 21'st centuries generation of people,humans who deluded themselves of fetishism.

She hated the thought of being fetishized,of immediately being sized to only the worth of what her immortality encountered,of being only that of what her alluring gaze,the sinful form of her luscious body,or the seductive aura of her energy that could lure,men and women alike,made her to be what humans fantasized about.

Maybe she was quite the unique of her kind, seeing that most cubbi creatures actually adored how they were wanted by so many,were thought of in such inappropriate ways by so many,the fetishment of this dear century.

She on the other hand, would appreciated it to a full degree fucking much,if she would stop attracting the shittiest of humans to her by the look of her eyes,the grazing of her hand,the mere scent of her prehormones.

Unfortunately,there wasn't an off switch to exist as a demon such as her,no matter how much she hated the assault of so many gazes,how much she hated the stench of arousal that tailed her almost everywhere,or the lingering stares if she dared forgot slipping in her contacts for that day,the whistles of old and married men that followed her into dark alleys on nights she dared to want to have fun.

Being an demon doned on that of seductive allusions,wasn't all that great when it didn't come with respect or boundaries.

For Amala,either way.
The rest of her kind couldn't care less as long as they were feeding.

The same hair,coloured an inky blue black as it said on the dye box,was currently being curled around Amala's index finger repeatedly as she intensely tried to keep her focus to the overweight teacher stood in front of the lecturer hall.

Mr.Jung, the dude who had to teach her the basics of his language on the daily, the never ending pickle of being interested in the cultures of humankind having her pick mandarin as a side subject.

It pricked her now,in her side,as she struggled to keep her posture from leaning into the sharp edge of the table.

Fatigue was eating at her after a feeding spree this weekend.

Yet,she loved how fluidly his tongue spoke,the sounds so soft and gentle,like silk against her sensitive skin after a hot shower,she liked it so much that she found herself immediately infatuated with the language of his mother tongue.

Now though,she may have started to regret some of her study choices,as she struggled to keep the yawn that rose in her mouth inside and discreet,the eagle eyes of her lecturer never failing to miss much,and oh how he fucking loved to get rid of each student one by one before the end of his class amended.

She chose to focus herself on the primary lettering of today,her gaze fixed on how smoothly a brush must've glided across the paper that was most possibly printed.

Yet.

How would it be for that particular human if they were to poise their wrist to the movements of the brush,the soft swish of a paint brush against the flat surface of a smooth paper page,the deep dark trenches of black paint colouring the pale mists of them.

"Miss Jackson.
Could you repeat for the class what I had just said?"
Mr Xiao asked of her,and she found her cheeks heating.

Of course she'd had to go and zone out,now just didn't she?

Fanfuckingtastic.

"I-uhh.."
She stumbles over her words of course,and she takes a glance around to see everyone is prompted to staring at her, making her cheeks flare that much brighter,which is thankfully  hidden by her daily douse of camouflaging that she used on the kaleidoscope of odd colours her cheeks loved to grow when her emotions took a toll on her.

Sometimes it glowed,a sore stick of light in the dark,and she found she hated how it could translate her train thoughts to just about anyone who chose to deeply study the features of her face.

"You are excused."

Her cheeks deflate a little,and the subtle pout of her lips are noticed by her best friend next to her,Simone,who dares to pinch her thigh so she could get moving.

"Would you like to be escorted,or shall we stretch this out and waste the vulnerable time of the students around you?"
He nips,and it works,abit too quick perhaps,as Amala embarrassingly  leaps out of her seat at the mere thought of being a burden or discomfort for the strangers that surround her,her heated cheeks growing hotter by the second as she packs up her books in fast fluid movements.

To late she realizes that her speed could be dehumanising by abit,and she slows the flicks of her wrists and the touches of her fingertips to a slower pace.

"I'm-I,Sorry!"
She hastens to mumble,maybe a little louder than she had intended before rushing herself out the lecturer hall,her flannel getting caught in the door in her haste.

With a baffled and embarrassed grunt,she takes the needed steps back to the the rest of her flannel residing in the crack of both doors,before pushing it open to a voice that halts in it's explanation of how the tongue should be formatted to move when pronouncing,and she tugs it back to her body.

With hurried steps she removes herself away from the door and into the hall that would take her to the entrance of unit AAC4, and Building B's exit that awaited her three flights of stairs away.

She liked taking the stairs, even if there were escalators and elevators for the comfort of the students,like the odd thing she is,she liked the brun that would work their way up her legs, thought of it much the same as the adrenaline before a particularly intimate scene with whichever lover she lured into her seduction,the unsteady shakiness she experienced if the pursued human succeeded in moving their limbs to the attunement of hers.

In most cases humans didn't excell,which made it very rare for her legs to actually tremble after having a fuck,no matter how good the sex was,it was just simply impossible for most humans to keep up with her desires.

In cases it did happen, she'd have to push them to their limits and she could end up feeding too much, leaving them to spent to wake up the next morning.
She's never done that before,and wasn't exactly fond of fucking the soul and energy out of a partner now either.

So yes,she was satisfied at most,and yet.

Never truly satisfied?

——

The sun beats down on Amala's covered skin,and she finds herself regretting the cargos she pulled over her legs today,matched with an sweatshirt that hung a bit further down her pelvis,the long flanneled shirt that enveloped her sides until mid thigh.

Her eyes, searching for a particularly muscular man with dimpled cheeks and a bed head of golden hair, being outrageously tall,so much that his fluffy head always poked above crowds,and his style that were similar to that of Amalas.

She spots him mere minutes later,in deep conversation with a boy who seemed to have a bunnied smile,an beautiful set of tattoos stretching across the limb that was his hand, running up his sleeve that came to bulge around the girth of his bicep as he motioned with his hand.

She smelled him before they reached her, the mild scent of ripe bananas and milk saturating the air near her nostrils, the little entrancing saur to it that identified to species only non-human.

"Joon?"

Amala's stance was that of someone on the defendant, it probably wasn't even needed, seeing that most inhumane beings never found it amusing to occur in public brawls, or making known to the public eye of what exactly they were, most having been thought as child that humans were mindless panicky things, privy to act before thinking or understanding for that matter.

"Mala, calm down, you stink of burnt cinnamon."
Namjoon grimaces, twitching his nose while watching the muscled bunny man from his peripheral, the bunny boy now currently glancing between Amala and her brother.

"Umm,hi?"
He clears his throat at her piercing black gaze that fixes itself on him.

"You identify as?"
She doesn't bother greeting.

"A familiar.
I find myself to be less intimidating in my bunny form, sorry."
He whispers, rubbing his neck in a rueful way.

A small smile tickles the corners of Amala's lips,and she finds herself abit guilted at how blunt she immediately became in the presence of a new unknown immortal.

"No need to apologize.
Joonie,I'll be waiting in the car once you're done with your little bunny friend, yeah?"
Amala inquires and with an agreeing 'yeah yeah,I'll make it quick." From Namjom, she leaves him be with a small polite smile in a baffled Jungkook's directions, heading for her car.

20 Minutes later, Namjoon finally decides to join her in their journey to their childhood home, and she grimaces his way when he climbs into the passenger seat next to her.

Namjoon was not fond of finding himself in the driver's seat, and particularly liked being a passenger princess whenever he could.

He found himself lucky every time accompanied by his sister, who babied him too much for his age of being 23.

"A Familiar,huh?"
She tsks as she backs out of the parking spot, the soft tune of Taylor Swift's cardigan playing between them.

"He's cute, I think.
And he seems as if would be able to fuck me against the wall until I'm spent and crying, so yes."
He retorts back, pushing his glasses higher up the bridge if his nose.

Amala and Namjoon's relationship has always been like this.Well not always, since she'd known him since he was a snotty seven year old and a menace that she had to force to brush his teeth most nights.They had only started talking about their next conquests when it had already been both their sixteenth birthdays,and they had to start feeding themselves if they rathered not growing ballistic.

"He knows you're the perfect pillow princess as well as a passenger princess then?"

"I don't know, I was a little shier than I usually am when I go for my prey, or in this case, conquests."

"Could be because he's not human, and not so easily tricked."
The comment comes from Amala as she rounds the street that would push them into a high way of traffic.

"You think he could?"

Suddenly there's the familiar tightness in their shared air at Namjoons lingering question,and Amala bunches her shoulders up in a motion that signalled,'I'm of no help,don't bother asking'.

Truth is,neither of them knows the answer, seeing as it was a destiny thing, rather.

Yes, destiny did actually exist.

In this case,you have to find your forever one, in most cases it's called a soulmate, but Namjoon and Amala had doped it the forever lover,seeing as you'd be bound to them forever, no matter through how many life times you have to live.

You'd eventually find your way back to them, living each one.

Being a cubbi meant the addition of being immortal, they had far more advantages than those of mere humans.
For example.

The ability of telepathy, a prolonged life known only to those that are already dead, immortality. More advantages would be inhumane strength,speed rivaling the wind at its highest peak, hypnotism.

How most Cubbi demonized creatures lured their prey to bed, and proceeded on their feeding.

But they had weaknesses as well, as all things created are prone to have, be they heavenly or hellish.

In this case,their weakness existed of being summoned, which didn't happen all that much, it has never happened to Amala in her whole lifespan,neither Namjoon.

But if it did,they would be vulnerably lost of their strength,mind hooked in a haze to only please and obey.
Events like this can occur to being leveled with sexual activity,or a dark driven human who just wanted to do dehumanising things to an inhumane being.

She shudders thinking of just what multiple of her kind had encountered on journeys such as,in cases such as these that a Cubbi would turn too ballistic to live sane again,resuming their lives with those who are driven by insanity.

And well,your forever one, or soulmates as she's mentioned,in most cases,are the only thing to stop that from happening to Amala and Namjoon as well.

Which is also what Namjoon asked her she perhaps thought Jungkook could be,which she presumed to think he did as well.

"Maybe?"
She resumes to answer his question with one of her own.

"Maybe,yeah."

——

This is _the start
Of:

ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ.

(The REWRITTEN version.)

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒔 ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆.
𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑒𝑠_
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟.