➪ꏳꀍꍏᖘ 002

"Mum,could you not?"
Amala's cheeks deflate like a popped balloon with each new touch of her mother hands to her clothes,face,hair.

She gotta start leaving her alone!
Preferably,her hair.

"Baby,why don't you let me do your hair anymore?
Cause whoever be doing it nowadays ain't fixing shit."

"Mother!"
Well ouch,her mother's critics to her mini twists smoothly bounced off her nerve endings,and by the narrowing of her mother eyes it seems Mrs.Kim does not approve of the attitude.

"Is that an insult?"
Amala sniffs, nevertheless.

"Is that an attitude,now I know you ain't -"

"Darling,my sweetheart!"
The both of them turn at Amala's father heading straight for them,
Mr.Kim's smile pushing his eyes into moon crescents,forming crow claws around his aging eyes that grows ever the more prominent.

"Hi dad."

She does not have the time to gulp in a breath of air before she's engulfed between two beefy arms that tighten around her in a bear hug,an abrupt rush of air rushing out of her as she sags into her Mr.Kim's hold.

"Da- dad,I can-can't breath!"
Her voice comes out in a raggedy whisper,her father letting her go with a chuckle.

When he sets her smaller frame down in front of him,he ruffles her hair around even more haphazardly, scrutinizing her from head to toe to check for any changes since the last time he has seen his step daughter in the last three months.

"Her hair looks fine to me love,even better now that I added a little touch to it,hmm?"
He turns to Mrs.Kim who rolls her eyes at his antics, before narrowing her gaze at Amala once again.

"You're not leaving until I get you between my knees and a comb though that fro of yours,ya hear?
Now where is my baby!"
She huff's begrudgingly as she pats Amala's shoulder and pushes her to her father's side,eyes in search of her youngest.

It's amusing how Amala, being her biological child was less doted on than Namjoon that they both only met when he'd been seven,and that Mr.Kim favoured doting on his older stepdaughter more than he did his own biological son.

Amusing, really.

This that Amala's smaller frame is substituted to be the perfect stand for the heavily muscled arm that rests on it as he leads them both out of the back door.

There,Mr.Kim's greenhouse,even more doted on than Amala herself, kept in perfect condition awaits them.

"Is it possible for these plants to look even greener than the last time I saw them?"
She huffs amazed,the indie coloured green that misted the vegetable garden mixed with an small flowery cube sat aside for her mother,shining quite a tad too bright, even for her very own demonic eyes.

"Maybe,or maybe a little magic does just the trick.
Don't ya think?"
Mr.Kim chuckles.

"I thought we were forbid to use anything not mortal in this house,hmm?"
She turns her gaze to him, successfully removing the heavy weight of his arm from her tired and strung out shoulder.

"Not when it's used for your mother's vegetables,no.
You know how crazy tempered that woman gets when she doesn't have the finest ingredients to her spur of the moment meals."
There's a tired sigh that resounds through his words,and Amala finds herself giggling to her father's complaints.

"Spur of the moment they definitely are-"
They share a quiet laugh as Amala smooths her hands over the soft petals of her mother's side of the greenhouse,a colourful kaleidescope of brightness that brings a little spark to the otherwise dull and greenery of her father.

They,on the other hand, didn't seem as mystic as her fathers veggies,an justified fact that her mother didn't know what her husband was busy doing with her vegetables behind her back.

"You two better not be discussing my cooking skills, or I'll gladly not feed none of you.More for my baby Joonie either way."
Said mother stands.in the doorway of the kitchen that leads to the greenhouse at back,a pouting Namjoon at her side at her babying antics.

"Maa-I'm really trying to let go of some love handles here-"
He complains, proving much the point of how he definitely is the baby of the house.

"Love handles are pretty baby.
Don't you know how much boys nowadays love more weight on their meat,huh?"
They both disappear again,right after Joon salutes his dad and trails after his mothers yappering on.

"So...
Emergency Meeting,huh?"
Amala asks curiously,as it's also the main reason why she had spent more than a hundred on filling her tank for the long trip to their hometown.

"Ahh...that."
With the way her father's brows furrow,she seems to be intrigued even more.

Especially with his pine wood scent growing a little duller with the more distinct scent of wet mist.

"What about that?"
She questions rather, probing her father to come clean already and lay her nerves off abit.

"They called for you."
He says so suddenly,that it confuses Amala a bit.

Quite the biggest bit,if you'd mind.

"The who?
And what for?"
She asks instead.

With the way her father sighs before he takes a seat on the swinging couch, patting the open spot next to him as an indication that she takes it,alerts Amala that nothing good could come from the rest of their talk.

She settles down,snuggling into her fathers warm side, tucking her feet beneath her as she revels in the way her starts playing with her messy curls, trying to untangle it as best he can but instead finding himself tangling it even more.

She didn't care that much,it felt nice not having to pay for the tingling feel that ran across the confines of her scalp everytime Mr.Kim's hand stroked across the soft skin.

"They called earlier this week,a request came through.
A request for Amala Jackson."

Amala is still struggling to understand who this they were,and what they were requesting her for.

"Still,you're not answering my question of who they are and what for they want me?"

It's a little while before he answers,with just the sound of their breathing and the buzzing of a couple bees zooming near the space of her mother's flowers lingering in the air.

"You've been summoned,my sweet child.

You,on your own,will later figure out what for,honey."

--

There is claustrophobic feeling that accompanies the walls that surround me,a cold bite to the air that surrounds me,the low of the temperature that feeds along the walls.

Amala's been waiting a total of an hour,if not more by now,she was sure.

She has sat with her family for dinner, enjoying her mother's spur of the moment cooking before being engulfed with both their homey scents when they bundled her in a reassuring hug,before her father had led her to their basement.

Alone,she set her feet in front of the other down the creaking staircase, touching the pads of her fingers to the railing that ensured the safety of her lone figure,then the first touch of her heel to the cemented floor.

A shiver went through her then,the eerie feel of the cold air stroking her warm skin so unfamiliar.She gazed around curiously, uncertainty etched in her orbs as she flitted the dark pits of them along the walls,over the little furniture that made themselves home here.

Her blackened gaze had fell on that of what she supposed was what she would have to use to communicate with the other side.

The telephone had been an scarlet hued red,unmistakable graving of the satanic language carved into its hooked ends,displayed in a golden design of trickling tears smearing down the sides of it.

Alone,it stood substituted by a table that seemed as old as time,and yet it held the unmistakable shine of something that could've been bought just yesterday.

What gave it away was the many claw marks engraved in it,the slight dusting settled atop its surface,the way it seemed very close to giving in to its weakened sustainability.

Hesitantly,Amala seated herself on the chair that accompanied it, trailing her finger across the four pawed table's surface to have it dirty the pad of her index finger,the steady groaning of the chair beneath her shifting weight adding to the additional feeling of discomfort.

After marveling at the piece that could be displayed as something in the oldest of museums,she held the slight heaviness of it in her hand, weighing her options in her subconscious mind until she heard the snap of a burning twig echo through the confines of her mind.

For a moment she was startled,until she realized that yes,her species indeed made use of their existing power, telepathy.

For a moment it was silent with only the weight of her breathing mingled with another beings that echoed through her head,before she pressed the antique piece of art to her ear and she could clearly hear the resonant breathing of someone on the other side.

"Amala Jackson?"
A voice that stroked across the surface of her skin so softly,the gentle reminder of silk and satin.

"Yes?"
Amala's voice in return,was that of a grated wheeze.

She waited ,accompanied by the sounds of only her breathing and that of a crackling fire while the other end of the line went dead.

Confused,she had looked up from where her nails had been scratching the surface of the little table rather nervously,and she think she now knew why there were so many of them available.

Lifting her gaze past the point of the tabletops surface,she gazed upon the empty hollowing cave that she now stood inside of,confused at most,and yet,

Curious the other.

It has definitely been more than an hour by now,and all she'd done thus far was declare that it indeed was she,Amala Jackson.

That is,until she feels another's presence sharing the small space of the cave.

She turns so quickly it has her mini twist flying wildly abit,and the twisted strands that fall over her shoulders is the only sound that echoes through the small space.

In front of her stood the lone figure of a woman,her horns curved up horizontally as smoke lingered from them to cover the upper half of her face,the tip of her button nose having a sparkle to it,the black scarlet of her lips seeming to be colder than what this cave's temperature could ever possibly be.

She's naked as well, her flattering limbs revealed.

Amala knows she is being studied much as Amala is studying the woman in front of her,with skin so porcelainly white that it contrasts against the dark grey of the walls,the full of her breasts that push up in what seems to be a luscious perky form,down the flat plane of her stomach to her bared lower regions as nude the day she must have been born.

The only thing that seems it would be able to cover her,are her wings, frightening in their huge size and the tippled hooks that stretches across their surface.

"Tch,tch,tch."
The being says and Amala imagines an disappointed gaze directed at her.

"Huh?"
She's confused now.

"This just won't do,no,no,no."
In what seems to be less than a millisecond,the being has moved in behind her.

She feels as it's warm fingers trail over the pulse of her neck,how warm her body feels from behind,as her length towers over that of Amala's.

She is not able to decipher what she is by her scent,for she smells of,...

Nothing?

"Why are you hiding?"
It's voice asks in her ear.

"I-..."
Amala mumbles incoherently,a shiver going down her spine when soft curved are pushed into her back.

"Lilith will not like.
No,no,no."

"Lilith?"

As in mother of all those who are created demonic?

"Only the best is demanded."
The woman seems to be whispering to herself,and pulls her longs fingers through Amala's hair,and along with it comes the black of the hair dye to reveal the auburn red, streaked with scarlet strokes hair of Amala.

A protest leaves Amala as she tries to stop whatever the woman was doing.

Until she brushes her warm hands over Amala's face, brushing the lids of her eyes close to remove Amala's trusted contact lenses.

With a last press to her forehead,the being extract's Amala's cutely curved horns to the surface,a lava red glint to them that glimpses at her angered emotions.

"Now,is best."
It's voice seems further away,and Amala finds herself turning after it,only to find it disappearing into a dark void.

"Wait!"

She tries to reach for the lone woman's hand that felt so warm against her skin,but it dissipates to fast and her hands move through thin air.

All so suddenly,she's seated on the creaking chair once more,and the sizzling fire seems to have seized to a slow trickling crackle.

"Amala Jackson?"

Amala is unsure of why they're asking her to declare herself again,but she agrees nevertheless.

"Yes."
Her voice as much prove of just how confused she still is, hands tangled in her hair as she trudged them through the strands that now stood in coiled curls,no longer the neat nest of twists it once was.

"Jimin Park.
Has an effecting deficiency of struggling with working his sexual desires,and suffers from ongoing blue balls.
Start only by appearing in his dreams.
Is this clear?"
The voice is swift as it speaks,no doubt having done it multiple times already most probably.

Amala wishes it could be the same for her inexperienced ass.

"Yes,it is understood."

"Are you interested in the consequences if you do not succeed?"

"I'll excell,thank you."
She immediately says,her stomach not the strongest when placed in queasy situations such as now.

An annoyed grunt goes through the phone before there is the click that signifies the end of it all.

Now that wasn't so bad, was it?

Except for the fact that she was awfully confused yet still,and had no idea how she was about to supposedly excell in whatever her summoner would request of her.

And just who had that woman been?

--

Namjoon comes to find her lone figure on that of they're back yard swing, her feet inches above the air as she lets the cold midnight air push her body to its rhythm.

He frowns when he sees the state her hair are in,the coily curls that travels in a adorable puffy manner over her shoulders and down the arch of her back,settling itself at waist length.

She was quite fortunate with her demonic genes, having cut her hair but eight months ago to a shoulder length,the struggle of detangling the long coily strands and going through her monthly detangling spree that always took a whole Saturday away from her.

But here she was again,with how her hair had originally been and having only grown the whole of her inches in the span of eight months.

Sometimes,she desperately wanted to shave them all off,even if she knew her hair would probably be at shoulder length in the first three months.

Namjoon rather,liked it alot.It gave him a grip when he wanted to annoy her and the perfect way had always been on the auburn red coloured strands with the mystical scarlet streaks that resembled that of a glowing rose when Amala chose to sit beneath the moon tonight.

When he does indeed,tug on her hair when going to take the open swing next to her,and tugs her head back a little,he hears her canines before he sees them.Knowing that the only way a snarl could sound as loud as it did,was if her larger than average human canines made themselves visible.

He can't mask the shock that lingers on his face,and Amala rolls her eyes at his antics,as if he hadn't had all of 17 years to get used to her originally inhibited form.

His mouth is shaped in a little "O" form while his gaze travels over the black of her cutely curved horns over her forehead,the mixture of glinting amber and ruby red that her eyes were,a hot flush that glowed against the flesh of her cheeks.

"Oh."
He whispers.

"Yes,oh."
She grimaces his way before pulling the stenched air of cigarette smoke deep into her lungs again, blowing out small circles of them once she feels her chest starting to hurt in a addictively good way from holding it inside abit too long.

Again with the fortune of being an Satanicly entwined Demonic succubus to thank for that.

"When are you leaving for you first appearance?"
He asks curiously,once having overcoming the shock that still lingered.

"A couple hours.
Sad thing is,I don't have the finest idea on what I'm supposed to do."
She chuckled hollowly.

Namjoon stares at his sister thoughtfully,his lip pursed into a cute pout as he scrutinizes her.

"You'll figure it out.
You always do, don't you?"
He asks, knowing that his sister indeed did know how to think on her feet,no matter the given situation.

"I-I don't really know,joonie boy.
I'm think I'm more confused than anything."

"What's so confusing about having sex with a human and being under their control for the majority of the time your there?"
He sniffs, kicking his feet against the sand lightly before pushing himself higher up.

They swing along to the crickets that sing in chorus against the midnight sky,the wind that pushes them to whatever rhythm it finds suitable,the comforting scent of each other filling their noses.

"I'm scared,Namjoon."
Her voice tilts into that deeper,breathier tone that she rarely uses.

And only uses in situations where she felt brave in,or the opposite,scared.

"You'll figure it out,Mala.
We both know you always do."
He says as he comes to still against her,their feet hovering above the ground as he lays his head on her shoulder, letting her trudge her fingers through the soft silky strands.

Amala just didn't know how to tell Namjoon,that for the first time...

She wasn't so sure that it'll be as easy to figure out.

__

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