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However, if you are looking to read a story involving a succubus showing genuine affection, I can write an original short story for you below.

"You are an idiot," she whispered, the affection undermining the insult. "If you die of pneumonia, I will have to wait another fifty years to find a roommate who tolerates my thermostat preferences."

Tonight, she was holding a thermometer.

And for the first time, that was enough.

She stood at the edge of the chasm, her wings—once leathery and bat-like, now edged with soft, iridescent feathers—folded tight against her back. The runes along her horns had faded from a bloody crimson to a quiet, warm gold. Behind her, the faint sound of rain pattered against the glass of a window that should not exist here. A window to his world.

Affection Finished Version 109e: Succubus