MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS: EVE ENCOUNTERS DEMON BEELZEBUB "THE LORD OF THE FLIES" PART 2 REMAINING NIGHTS FOUR THROUGH SEVEN
MEETING DEITIES
&
DEMON SPIRITS
(PTSD DREAMS)
CREATED
BY
J. BECK
2026
MEETING DEITIES
&
DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE
ENCOUNTERS
DEMON BEELZEBUB
"THE LORD OF THE FLIES"
PART 2
REMAINING NIGHTS
FOUR THROUGH SEVEN
(PTSD DREAMS)
The
Fourth Night Arrived
Like a Fever Dream
That
Refused to Break
Eve did not walk to the clearing this time.
She Crawled.
Not out of weakness—though her body still trembled from the venom’s lingering heat, muscles loose and liquid, skin prickling with the memory of every sting—but because the ground itself seemed to pull her forward. The moss and fallen leaves were cool against her palms and knees. Each slow advance dragged fresh welts across her dark-tanned thighs; the faint golden sheen of her altered secretions left thin, glistening trails behind her like a snail’s path rewritten in honey.
She emerged into the circle naked, hair a wild snarl of black ropes matted with forest detritus and dried bee-dust. The red constellation of stings had mostly faded to pale rose pinpricks, but a few still throbbed in time with her heartbeat—particularly the ones clustered along the inner curve of her labia and the hood of her clit. Those places felt permanently sensitized now, as though the venom had rewired the nerves to crave pressure, friction, pain.
The stone altar waited, moss-slick and waiting.
Beelzebub stood behind it.
Tonight he wore only the brown leather trousers, low on narrow hips, boots unlaced. His chest was bare, the long greasy black hair loose and falling forward to curtain one eye. In the faint phosphorescent glow that rose from the beehives hidden in the beech trunks, his skin looked almost feverish—too warm, too alive. No cigarette. No smoke. Just him, breathing slow and deliberate, watching her crawl the last few feet until her forehead rested against the cool edge of the altar.
He did not speak at first.
He simply reached down, fingers sliding into her hair at the nape, and lifted her chin until her eyes met his. Those black depths were calmer tonight—less molten fury, more patient possession. The oil-slick luminescence had softened to something almost tender.
“You’re changing,” he said quietly. “I can smell it. Taste it already.”
He crouched so their faces were level. One thumb traced the swollen lower lip still bearing the faint imprint of a sting. Then he leaned in and licked it—slow, deliberate, tasting the ghost of venom and the new sweetness underneath.
Eve whimpered. The sound was small, animal, involuntary.
He stood again. With both hands he lifted her onto the altar—effortless, reverent—and laid her on her back. The stone was cold against shoulder blades, ass, the backs of her thighs. She hissed at the contrast; her nipples drew into tight, aching points immediately.
Beelzebub climbed onto the slab after her. He straddled her hips without putting weight down yet—knees bracketing her waist, palms planted on either side of her head. The leather of his trousers brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs; she felt the hard ridge of him straining behind the fastenings.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
She did.
He reached behind his neck and drew a thin leather cord from beneath his hair. On it hung a single, perfect hexagon of honeycomb—still sealed in pale wax, untouched. He held it above her face so a single drop of liquid gold gathered at the lowest point and trembled.
“This is the last piece you never stole,” he said. “The heart of the hive. The queen’s own portion.”
He pressed the comb to her lips.
“Open.”
She parted them. He dragged the wax edge across her lower lip, then higher—along the seam, letting the first bead of honey smear across her tongue. The taste was obscene: richer, darker, more floral than anything she had licked from her own fingers or his cock. It coated her mouth like sin made syrup.
He broke the wax with his thumbnail. Golden liquid welled up. He tilted the comb so it dripped—slow, deliberate—onto her tongue, then her chin, then lower. A thick line ran between her breasts, pooled in the hollow of her throat, trickled down her sternum, circled one nipple, then the other. Each drop felt scalding against venom-tender skin.
When the comb was half-empty he set it aside and lowered his mouth to her throat. He licked the trail upward in one long, claiming stroke—tongue flat and hot—then bit down over the pulse point, hard enough to bruise but not break skin.
Eve arched. A sob tore free.
He moved lower. Tongue following every golden path he had painted. When he reached her breasts he sucked one nipple deep—honey and skin and the faint metallic edge of old venom—while his fingers pinched the other, rolling, tugging, until she writhed beneath him.
Only then did he slide down her body.
He hooked her knees over his shoulders, spreading her wide. The altar edge dug into the small of her back; she didn’t care. He looked up the length of her—eyes burning black—and spoke against her dripping cunt.
“You taste like me now. Like honey forged in hellfire.”
Then he buried his face between her thighs.
His tongue was longer than it should have been—sinuous, clever—lapping at her entrance, curling inside, stroking the front wall where she was still swollen and tender from three nights of ruthless use. He drank her like wine: slow sips, then greedy pulls, sucking her clit between his lips and flicking the tip of his tongue across the hypersensitive bud until her hips jerked off the stone.
She came the first time almost immediately—sharp, shattering, a cry that echoed off the beech trunks. He didn’t stop. He pushed two fingers inside her—thick, callused, curling—and sucked harder while his thumb circled her clit in merciless rhythm.
The second orgasm rolled through her like thunder—longer, deeper, her walls clamping around his fingers so hard he growled against her flesh.
He kept going.
Third. Fourth. Each one built on the venom-soaked sensitivity of her nerves until pleasure edged so close to pain she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Honey—hers now, thick and golden—flooded his mouth; he drank it all, groaning like a man dying of thirst.
When she was sobbing, shaking, barely able to breathe, he finally rose over her again.
He freed himself from the trousers—cock thick, ridged, leaking—and notched at her entrance.
“Beg,” he rasped.
Her voice cracked. “Please—Beelzebub—fill me—ruin me—make me yours forever—”
He thrust in one brutal stroke.
She screamed.
He fucked her like a man claiming territory he had already conquered but still needed to mark again—deep, punishing, relentless. The altar rocked beneath them; moss tore under her gripping fingers. Each thrust dragged across every swollen, venom-kissed inch inside her until she was nothing but a live wire of sensation.
When she came again—violent, gushing, soaking his cock and the stone beneath them—he finally let go.
He buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside her—hot, endless, branding her depths with heat that felt like molten gold. His teeth found her shoulder; he bit down as he pulsed, marking her one more time.
They stayed locked together for long minutes—his weight pinning her, her legs wrapped around his waist, both of them breathing in harsh, broken gasps.
When he finally withdrew, a thick trickle of their combined release followed—golden-tinged, shimmering in the faint light. He scooped it with two fingers and brought it to her lips.
“Taste us,” he murmured.
She sucked his fingers clean—honey, salt, brimstone, surrender.
He kissed her then—slow, filthy, sharing the taste between them.
“Fourth night,” he whispered against her mouth. “Three remain.”
Eve’s eyes fluttered half-closed, body limp and glowing with aftershocks.
She no longer cared how many nights were left.
She only knew she would crawl to him for every single one.
And when the last night came, she would beg him never to let her go.
The fifth night tasted like surrender that had finally learned its own name.
Eve did not crawl this time. She walked—slow, deliberate, every step a conscious choice. The forest path no longer felt like a summons pulling her forward; it felt like an extension of her own body. The air was warmer tonight, heavy with the scent of blooming nightshade and fermenting sap. Fireflies drifted between the beech trunks in lazy golden spirals, mirroring the slow pulse of the bees that already hovered just out of reach, waiting for permission.
She arrived at the clearing completely bare, skin still carrying the faint golden sheen that had become permanent after the third night’s venom baptism. The welts had faded to nearly invisible silver pinpricks, but every one of them tingled when the night air brushed across them—like tiny dormant embers waiting for breath to reignite. Her long greasy black hair hung loose to her waist, strands sticking to the damp curve of her back. Dark eyeliner had been reapplied with trembling fingers before she left the cabin; it was already beginning to run in anticipation, black rivulets tracing the sides of her face like ceremonial paint.
Beelzebub waited in the center of the circle, standing motionless beside the stone altar. Tonight he was naked except for the tall brown leather boots. His body gleamed under the faint, unnatural luminescence that rose from the ground—muscles taut, skin flushed with infernal heat, long black hair unbound and falling forward to shadow his unshaven jaw. His cock was already half-hard, thick and ridged, resting heavy against his thigh. No cigarette. No leather. Just him, stripped to the essential truth of what he was.
He did not move when she stepped into the moonlight. He simply watched her approach with those bottomless black eyes, letting the silence stretch until it became its own kind of foreplay.
When she reached him she stopped—close enough that her nipples brushed his chest with every shallow breath. She lifted her chin.
“I’m ready,” she said. Her voice was low, wrecked from four nights of screaming his name, but steady. “Whatever you want tonight. All of it.”
A slow smile curved his mouth—dangerous, proud, almost tender.
He reached out and cupped the side of her face, thumb tracing the black tear-tracks of eyeliner. Then he leaned in and kissed her—not invasion this time, but a slow, deep claiming that tasted of smoke long extinguished and honey still warm in the comb.
When he broke the kiss he murmured against her lips:
“Tonight you take me inside every way a body can.”
He guided her down to the moss beside the altar—no stone this time, just soft earth that still held the day’s heat. He laid her on her back, spread her thighs with gentle but unyielding hands, and settled between them.
First he used his mouth again—slow, worshipful. Tongue tracing every fold, dipping inside, curling against the front wall until her hips rose off the ground. He sucked her clit between his lips and hummed—low vibration that made her sob—while two fingers slid into her cunt, then three, stretching her open with patient cruelty. When she came the first time it was quiet, shuddering, her back arching as golden slickness coated his chin and dripped down her perineum.
He didn’t let her come down.
He rose over her, aligned himself, and pushed in—slow this time, letting her feel every ridge, every vein, every impossible inch until he was seated so deep she felt him against her cervix. He stayed there, motionless, letting her adjust, letting her clench around him in frantic little pulses.
Then he began to move—long, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot the venom had amplified. She wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, nails raking down his shoulders. He fucked her steady and deep, building her slowly toward the next peak while his mouth found her throat, her breasts, her mouth—biting, licking, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness that leaked from her core.
When she came again—harder, louder—he pulled out abruptly.
“Turn over.”
She obeyed—rolling onto her stomach, ass raised, thighs spread. He knelt behind her, spread her cheeks with both hands, and dragged his tongue from her dripping cunt up the cleft of her ass—slow, deliberate—circling the tight ring of muscle there before pressing inside. She moaned into the moss, hips rocking back instinctively.
He worked her open with tongue and fingers—first one, slick with her own honey, then two—until she was trembling, begging wordlessly. Only then did he rise, notch the head of his cock against her ass, and push in—slow, inexorable, stretching her in a way that burned bright and beautiful.
Eve cried out—pain and pleasure so perfectly fused she couldn’t tell which was winning. He held still when he was fully seated, letting her breathe through it, letting her body learn the shape of him there. Then he began to move—shallow at first, then deeper—while one hand slid beneath her to circle her clit with slick fingers.
She came again like that—ass clenching around him, cunt spasming on nothing, golden slickness running down her thighs in thick rivulets. He growled against her shoulder, teeth sinking in, and fucked her harder—faster—until his rhythm broke and he spilled deep inside her with a guttural curse.
He stayed buried while they both caught their breath. When he finally withdrew, he turned her gently onto her back again.
One last thing.
He straddled her chest—cock still hard, slick with their combined release—and guided it to her lips.
“Open.”
She did. He slid into her mouth—slow, careful—letting her taste everything: cunt, ass, honey, venom, him. She sucked greedily, tongue swirling, hollowing her cheeks while her hands gripped his thighs. He fucked her mouth with shallow thrusts, never too deep, until his hips stuttered and he came again—hot pulses across her tongue, down her throat, spilling from the corners of her mouth when she couldn’t swallow fast enough.
He pulled out, thumb brushing the overflow across her swollen lips, then leaned down and kissed her—deep, filthy, sharing the taste between them.
They lay tangled together on the moss afterward—his weight half atop her, one arm draped possessively across her waist, her head tucked under his chin. The fireflies drifted closer, settling on their sweat-slick skin like living jewels. A few bees landed softly—wings still, reverent—on the curve of her breast, the dip of his collarbone.
“Fifth night,” he whispered into her hair.
Eve’s voice was barely audible, wrecked and serene at once.
“Two left.”
He tightened his arm around her.
“And after the seventh?”
She turned her face into his throat, lips brushing skin.
“I stay.”
A long silence. Then his low, rough laugh—almost disbelieving.
“You think I’d let you leave?”
She smiled against his pulse—small, secret, certain.
“No,” she murmured. “I don’t.”
The clearing went quiet except for the soft hum of wings and the slow rhythm of their breathing.
Two nights remained.
And the hive already sang of forever.
The sixth night felt like the edge of a blade pressed to the skin—sharp, inevitable, trembling with the promise of the final cut.
Eve arrived at the clearing just before midnight, but the hour no longer mattered. Time had become elastic here, stretched thin between one breath and the next. She wore nothing; she had stopped pretending modesty existed between them long ago. Her body carried the accumulated marks of the previous nights like a living map: faint silver scars from stings arranged in delicate spirals across her breasts and lower belly, the ghost of bite-bruises on throat and shoulders, the permanent golden undertone to her dark-tanned skin that made her glow faintly even in shadow. Between her thighs she was already slick—thick, slow-dripping honey that left glistening trails down the insides of her legs with every step. The scent of her filled the air before she even crossed the threshold of beech trees.
Beelzebub waited in the exact center of the clearing, standing naked on the moss beside the stone altar. No boots tonight. No leather. No cigarette. Only skin, muscle, and the slow rise and fall of his chest. His long black hair hung loose and uncombed; his unshaven jaw was shadowed darker than usual. His cock stood fully erect—thick, ridged, weeping at the tip—but he made no move toward her. He simply watched her approach with eyes that had gone from oil-slick black to something deeper, almost starless.
When she reached him she did not speak. She dropped slowly to her knees before him—graceful, deliberate—until her face was level with his hips. She looked up the length of his body, lips parted, dark eyeliner already beginning to run from the heat rising off both of them.
He reached down and threaded fingers through her greasy black hair—not pulling, just holding. His voice was rougher than she had ever heard it.
“Tonight you worship,” he said. “And then I break you open so completely there is nothing left to give on the last night but forever.”
She leaned forward without being told.
Her tongue traced the underside of him first—slow, reverent—tasting salt and smoke and the faint metallic sweetness that was uniquely his. Then she took the head into her mouth, sucking gently, swirling her tongue around the slit until he hissed through clenched teeth. She worked him deeper inch by inch—cheeks hollowing, throat relaxing—until her nose brushed the coarse hair at his base and she stayed there, swallowing around him, letting her throat flutter in rhythmic pulses.
He let her set the pace for a long time—letting her worship with mouth and hands, letting her tongue trace every ridge, every vein—until his control frayed and his hips began to rock in shallow thrusts. When he came it was sudden, hot, flooding her mouth until it spilled from the corners of her lips. She swallowed what she could, the rest dripping down her chin and onto her breasts in thick white ropes that mingled with her own golden slickness.
He hauled her to her feet by the hair—gentle enough not to tear, firm enough to make her gasp—and kissed her fiercely, tasting himself on her tongue while his hands roamed her body: pinching nipples already swollen from previous nights, sliding between her thighs to find her drenched and pulsing.
Then he turned her.
He bent her forward over the stone altar—hands flat on the moss-slick surface, ass raised, legs spread wide. The position was familiar, but tonight he did not enter her immediately.
Instead he knelt behind her.
His tongue found her cunt first—lapping at the thick honey that coated her folds, sucking it from her entrance like nectar from a flower. Then higher—slow circles around the tight ring of her ass, pressing inside with deliberate, wet strokes until she was moaning, rocking back against his face. He added fingers—one, then two—stretching her while his tongue continued its relentless worship.
When she was trembling, dripping, begging wordlessly, he rose.
He aligned himself with her ass—slick with her own honey and his spit—and pushed in—slow, relentless, stretching her open until the burn became a bright, beautiful fire. She cried out—half sob, half plea—nails scraping stone. He held still when he was buried to the hilt, letting her adjust, letting her body clench and flutter around the impossible thickness of him.
Then he began to move.
Long, deep strokes that dragged against every nerve ending the venom had heightened. One hand slid around to her clit—rubbing tight circles—while the other tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so he could bite the side of her neck in time with each thrust. The dual penetration—cock in her ass, fingers on her clit—pushed her over the edge almost immediately.
She came hard—body seizing, ass clamping down on him so tightly he groaned against her skin. Golden slickness gushed from her cunt, soaking his hand, dripping onto the moss below. He didn’t stop.
He fucked her through the aftershocks, faster now, harder—each stroke driving deeper until she was sobbing his name like a prayer. When she came again—violent, shattering, vision whiting out—he finally let go.
He buried himself to the hilt and came inside her—hot, pulsing floods that felt endless, filling her until she felt overfull, leaking around him even as he stayed seated deep. His teeth sank into her shoulder—hard enough to draw a thin line of blood this time—and he growled her name against the wound like a brand.
They stayed locked together for long minutes—his chest heaving against her back, her legs shaking, both of them slick with sweat, honey, come.
When he finally withdrew he turned her gently, lifted her onto the altar proper, and laid her on her back. He spread her thighs wide again, knelt between them, and lowered his mouth to the mess he had made—licking her clean, tasting the mingled flavors of cunt and ass and honey and his own release. She whimpered—oversensitive, trembling—but arched into his tongue anyway.
He brought her to one last, slow orgasm with nothing but his mouth—soft licks, gentle suction—until she shuddered and went limp, golden slickness coating his lips one final time.
He crawled up her body, kissed her deeply—sharing everything between them—and then simply held her.
Wrapped around her on the altar like a living cage.
No words for a long time.
Finally, his voice—low, wrecked—against her ear.
“Sixth night.”
Eve turned her face into his throat, lips brushing skin.
“One left.”
He tightened his arms around her.
“And when it’s over,” he murmured, “you will never be empty again.”
She smiled—small, certain, exhausted.
“I already know.”
The clearing went still.
The bees settled softly on their joined bodies—wings quiet, reverent.
One more night.
And then the beginning of always.
The seventh night did not arrive. It simply unfolded—like a flower blooming in reverse, petals folding inward until only the core remained.
Eve stepped into the clearing at the exact moment the last sliver of moon slipped behind the horizon. The sky was starless, ink-black, as though the forest had swallowed the heavens to make room for what would happen here. She carried nothing. She needed nothing. Her body had become the offering: dark-tanned skin luminous with its permanent golden undertone, every sting scar now a faint silver constellation that shimmered when she moved, long greasy black hair trailing behind her like spilled night, dark eyeliner smudged into permanent war-paint. Between her thighs the thick, slow honey dripped steadily—her new essence, sweet and inexhaustible, marking the moss with golden footprints.
Beelzebub waited exactly where the altar met the earth, seated on its edge, legs spread, elbows on knees, watching her approach with eyes that had finally stopped pretending to be human. They were pure black now—no reflection, no bottom, only endless depth lit from within by faint, shifting gold. He was naked, aroused, but still. Utterly still. The bees did not swarm chaotically tonight. They formed a perfect, silent sphere around the clearing—wings motionless, suspended in mid-flight, creating a living curtain that sealed the two of them inside eternity.
Eve stopped before him.
No words passed between them at first.
She simply stepped between his thighs, placed both hands on his shoulders, and climbed onto his lap—straddling him, knees sinking into the moss on either side of his hips. Her dripping cunt brushed the length of his cock; both of them hissed at the contact.
She did not lower herself yet. She simply rested there—heat against heat—while her fingers traced the lines of his face: the sharp jaw, the stubble, the faint scar at his temple she had never noticed before.
Then she leaned in and kissed him.
It was not hunger. It was recognition.
Slow. Deep. Tongues sliding together like they had done this for centuries. She tasted smoke that had never been lit, honey that had never been harvested, brimstone that had cooled into something almost gentle. His hands settled on her hips—not gripping, just holding—as though afraid she might vanish if he held too tightly.
When the kiss broke she whispered against his mouth:
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
His thumbs stroked the silver sting-scars along her hipbones.
“You never had to be.”
She rose slightly, aligned him at her entrance, and sank down—slow, deliberate, taking every ridged inch until he filled her so completely she felt him in her throat. No thrust followed.
They simply stayed locked together—breathing in rhythm, foreheads pressed, hearts slamming against each other’s ribs through skin and bone.
Then she began to move.
Not fucking. Worship.
Rolling hips in slow, languid circles. Rising until only the head remained inside her, then sinking back down with a sigh that sounded like relief. Each descent dragged every sensitive nerve along his length; each rise left her empty just long enough to make the return devastating. His hands roamed her back, her sides, her breasts—palms cupping, thumbs brushing nipples, fingers tracing every scar as though memorizing them by touch.
She came the first time like melting—quiet, shuddering, golden slickness flooding around him in warm pulses. He groaned low in his throat, hips lifting to meet her descent, but he did not take control.
She kept moving.
Second orgasm built slower—deeper—until it rolled through her like a tide, back arching, head falling back, mouth open on a soundless cry. He leaned forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth—gentle, reverent—while she clenched around him in long, rolling waves.
Third. Fourth. Each one quieter than the last, until her climaxes became less explosion and more dissolution—body softening, melting into his, boundaries blurring until it was impossible to tell where she ended and he began.
At some point he shifted them—still joined—until she lay on her back on the altar and he rose over her. He thrust now—slow, deep, measured—each stroke a promise. His mouth found hers again; they kissed through every movement, tongues mirroring the rhythm below.
When the final orgasm approached—not hers alone, but theirs—he pressed his forehead to hers, black eyes locked on hers.
“Say it,” he rasped.
Eve’s voice was barely a breath.
“I belong to you. Always. Beyond the nights. Beyond the forest. Beyond anything that ends.”
He buried himself to the hilt.
They came together—silent, shattering, endless.
Heat flooded her—his release, her own honey-slick essence, mingling until it spilled out around him in thick golden rivers that coated the stone beneath them. The bees descended at last—not stinging, not swarming chaotically—but settling gently across every inch of exposed skin: hers, his, theirs. Wings folded. Bodies still. A living shroud that glowed soft gold in the darkness.
He did not withdraw.
He stayed inside her—softening slowly, but never leaving—while his arms wrapped around her and hers around him. They lay entwined on the altar, bodies cooling, breaths evening, hearts slowing to match.
The bees lifted away one by one—returning to their hollows—until only a single bee remained, perched on the curve of Eve’s lower lip like a kiss goodnight. It fanned its wings once, twice, then flew into the dark.
Silence.
True silence.
Beelzebub pressed his lips to her temple.
“No more counting,” he murmured.
Eve smiled—small, sated, eternal—against his throat.
“No more nights.”
“Just this.”
The clearing exhaled.
The forest remembered.
And somewhere deep inside the hollow oak, the last untouched comb wept one final golden tear—then sealed itself forever.
They did not move until dawn.
When the first gray light filtered through the beech leaves, they were still joined—still breathing in perfect rhythm—still one.
The seventh night had ended.
The forever had already begun.
The forest had always been hungry.
Long before Eve ever tasted honey from a forbidden comb, long before the name Beelzebub was whispered in terror or reverence, the hollow oak stood alone at the center of the wood.
It was older than the hills that cradled it—older than the rivers that carved them—its trunk split open like a wound that never healed, black heartwood glistening with something that was not sap.
Bees had lived there since the first spring after the world cooled. Not ordinary bees. These ones carried a faint metallic sheen on their wings, a color that caught moonlight and turned it the shade of spilled oil.
Their hum was lower, almost a voice. When the wind moved through the branches just right, it sounded like someone laughing very far away.
They answered to no queen.
They answered to him.
He had no name then—not one that mortals could pronounce without their tongues blistering. He was simply the thing that lived inside the tree when the moon was new and the stars refused to look down.
Sometimes he wore the shape of a man: tall, lean, dark-haired, eyes like wet coal. Sometimes he was only smoke curling from the hollow. Sometimes he was the hum itself.
He did not crave worship. He craved attention.
And attention, once given, is a debt that compounds.
Centuries passed. Travelers came—hunters, herbalists, lost children, desperate lovers. Some left offerings of bread and milk at the base of the oak.
Some left blood. Most left nothing but footprints that the moss swallowed by dawn. He let them come and go. He was patient in the way mountains are patient.
. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE CONTINUES SECRET LIASON
W/THE DEVIL'S DEMON SERPENT
AN EROTIC NARRATIVE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"THE DEVIL--YOU KNOW"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil-you.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
ASHLING
SEEING GREEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-ashling.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS: DEMONESS ISOLDE POCESSION
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness.html?m=1
(EROTIC NARRATIVE)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
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https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness_3.html?m=1
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
烏坊主
(Karasu Bōzu, or "Crow Monk")
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-karasu.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
LILITH & CYBELE
REACH A COMPROMISE
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-lilith.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
NORSE GOD LOKI
& GIANTESS ANGRBODA'S
MONSTROUS FAMILY
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse-god_30.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL & LOKI MAKE AN ALLIANCE
ATOP MT KIRKJUFELL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_29.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL
& THE FALSE PROPHET
BALAAM VISITING LILITH IN EGYPT
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_27.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL VISITS THE DEMON STOLAS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_26.html?m=1
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL MEETS BALAAM
IN OLD JERUSALEM
& ENCOUNTER JEWISH SUCCUBUS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_87.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE HAG CONJURING NORSE GOD LOKI
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-hag.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
MOTHER GODDESS
WITH
ANGRBODA & SINYN
"FINDING CHRIST"
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-mother_25.html?m=1
(PICTORIAL NARRATIVE)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"POLLUTING SACRED PLACES"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-polluting.html?m=1
(MOTHER GODDESS WITH
ANGRBODA & SINYN)
NORSE GOD
LOKI "THE TRICKSTER"
& TWO WIVES
ANGRBODA & SINYN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse-god.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
NORSE GOD
LOKI&TWO WIVES PART 2
"In the Fevered Aftermath"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse-god_24.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
NORSE GODDESS SINYN
DRAWS THE UNHOLY GHOST
SHADOW NIGH
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse.html?m=1
CARMELA SOPRANO
MOBSTER WIDOW
(SOURCE)
From
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS
(PTSD DREAMS)
&
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/carmela-soprano-mobster-widow-from.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
CARMELA VISITING THE MADONNA
DISCOVERS
"DEMONS' PLAY"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-carmela_22.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
SOPHIA AKA
THE BLACK MOTH
STALKED
BY AAMON
THE WOLF DEMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-sophia.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
AAMON BLACK WOLF DEMON
&
JANICE (La Madre Orsa)
VISITING CHRIST CRUCIFIX
(EROTIC & DEMONIC NARRATIVE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-aamon-black-wolf.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
JANICE (MADRE ORSA)
RETURNING HOME
AS THE DEVIL'S
PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-janice.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"AN OLD FLAME"
THE DEVIL
&
JESSICA HARE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-old-flame.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
REVISITING
"AN OLD FLAME"
PART 2
THE DEVIL & JESSICA HARE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"AN OLD FLAME"
PART 3
THE
DEVIL & JESSICA HARE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-old-flame_20.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
JESSICA HARE
RECALLS
MEETING
THE DEVIL IN 1985
PART 4
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-jessica.html?m=1
(A CONTINUATION OF "AN OLD FLAME ")
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
DEVIL & LILITH
DEFYING
THE BURNING BUSH
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
DEVIL & LILITH
The
Burning Bush of Defiance
Part 2
Expanded
Revelations Dialogue
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_18.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
ABADDON
"THE DESTROYER"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-abaddon.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
Secret Meeting At Stonehenge
(Satan & Abaddon)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-secret.html?m=1
ABADDON
THE
DEMON DESTROYER
MEETING
THE BLACK MOTH
(SOFI)
AT
HELLMOUTH LOUNGE
. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS SPIRITS:
"THE BLACK MOTH"
(SOFI)
ENCOUNTERS
THE MARQUIS DEMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demons-spirits-black.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS:
"BAPHOMET"
THE BLACK MOTH
SOFI)
"ENLIGHTENMENT"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demons-baphomet-black.html?m=1
FURTHER
REFERENCES:
INTRODUCTIONS
DEMONS & FAMILIARS:
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/introductions-demons-familiars.html?m=1
AN
INTRODUCTION
PART 2
FEMME DEITIES & DEMONESS’:
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/an-introduction-part-2-femme-deities.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
DEMONIC CONCLAVE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demonic.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
CONCLAVE
AFTER-PARTY
AT
"HELLMOUTH" LOUNGE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-conclave.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
SATAN & ANTICHRIST
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-satan.html?m=1
(Discussing Revelation
& The End of Time)
THE MOTHER GODDESS
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-mother-goddess-visiting-madonna.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
LOKI
&
THE MOTHER GODDESS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-loki.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO"
VISITING THE MADONNA
(& MEETING WOLF-DEMON AAMON)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-visiting.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO "
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS: MAMMON
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-meeting-demon.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
RETURNS TO VISIT MAMMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-returns-to.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA
MATTY ORLANDO
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
DEVIL & BLACK PULLET
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-meeting.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS:
ASTAROTH & ASMODEUS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demons-astaroth-asmodeus-ptsd.html?m=1
WITH
EXTRAORDINARY
ALL NEW AI GENERATED IMAGES
USING WORD PROMPTS
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
ASTAROTH
ANDROGYNOUS SNAKE DEMON
&
ASMODEUS
GOATHEAD DEMON OF LUST
LIAISON:
A DEMON FLING
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-astaroth.html?m=1
DEMONS
"LILITH & AAMON"
(MEADOW & JACKIE JR)
A SUPPLIMENT FOR
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/demons-lilith-aamon-meadow-jackie-jr.html?m=1
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
LILITH SUCCUBUS & INCUBUS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-lilith-succubus.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"PAN"
GREEK GOAT GOD
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-pan-greek.html?m=1
"The Great God Pan is not Dead."
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTYO"
MATTY ORLANDO
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
MORE PAN
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/matilda-aka-mattyo-matty-orlando.html?m=1
(OUT IN THE WOODS)
MEETING DEMONS
(PTSD DREAMS)
A PICTORIAL NARRATIVE
JANICE
(LA MADRE ORSA)
VISITING
CHRIST CRUCIFIX
(MEETS AAMON THE WOLF DEMON)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demons-pictorial-narrative-ptsd.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
CARMELA ENCOUNTERS
WOLF DEMON AAMON
VISITING CHRIST CRUCIFIX
(PICTORIAL NARRATIVE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-carmela.html?m=1
CARMELA VISITING
FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI
(PART 1)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/carmela-visiting-father-ozario-sister.html?m=1
CARMELA
VISITING FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI
(PART 2)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/carmela-visiting-father-ozario-sister_14.html?m=1
FROM
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
APPENDIX II:
"Conspiracy of Crows"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/the-young-sopranos-appendix-ii.html?m=1
(The Ghost of Tony Soprano
Appears to Carmela)
FURTHER INTRODUCTIONS
OF DEMONIC DEITIES
LAMIA & JOHN KEATS
(PTSD DREAMS)
ELECTRA
AKA: "ELLIE"
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
BALAAM THE FALSE PROPHET
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/electra-aka-ellie-meeting-demon-spirits.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
MOTHER GODDESS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-mother.html?m=1
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
URSALUPUS
ENCOUNTERS DEMON RAUM
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-ursalupus-ptsd.html?m=1
AN
ANALYSIS
OF
"THE UNHINGING CRUX"
(Meadow's Virgin Islands Confessions)
FROM
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS(TYS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/analysis-of-unhinging-crux-from-young.html?m=1
AN ANALYSIS &
PHOTO ALBUM OF MEADOW'S MANY FACES
W/CARMELA COMPARISON
A SUPPLIMENT
OF
"THE YOUNG SOPRANOS"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/read-young-sopranos-source.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTY ORLANDO"
"MATILDA"
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL (1994)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-from-leon-professional-1994.html?m=1
MATILDA II
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-ii-from-leon-professional.html?m=1
"MATILDA" III
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-iii-from-leon-professional-1994.html?m=1
"MATILDA" IV
RESCUING BEETHOVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-iv-rescuing-beethoven.html?m=1
"MATILDA" V
MATTY ORLANDO
DATING "JOHNNY B. GOODE"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-v-dating-johnny-b-goode.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO"
VI
MAKE-UP PRACTICE SESSION
W/ JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vi-make-up.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
VII
MEMENTO MORI
(DRUNKEN DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vii-memento.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTY ORLANDO"
SUBWAY RAT DREAMS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-subway-rat.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
VII
MATTY ORLANDO'S
(Narrative)
"SECRET LIFE"
(W/ OUT JOHNNY B. GOODE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vii-matty.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
RESCUES BEETHOVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime.html?m=1
MORE
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
DATING
JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-dating-johnny-b.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
MEMENTO MORI
(ROMANCING THE DEAD)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-memento-mori.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
MAKE-UP PRACTICE SESSION
W/ JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-make-up-practice.html?m=1
"Johnny B. Goode"
(Live at the Fillmore East, NYC, NY - 1970) · Johnny Winter
https://youtu.be/gEayVWiJtLg?si=iePgaGvJVwQXTAmp
"MATTY ORLANDO"
INSPIRED
BY:
LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
(1994)
https://youtu.be/Pf0JW-cAFTs?si=-BMWviJ-Dham07HD
RAYMOND CURTO JR
DIMEO CRIME FAMILY
(FICTITIOUS CHARACTER WITH MS)
"Our Vision: A World Free of MS"
Delivering Breakthroughs to a Cure
Invested $1.1 billion into research since 1946
Please Consider
Donating to MS SOCIETY:
https://donate.nationalmssociety.org/pages/8528
CAITLYN (MOLTISANTI) SOPRANO
(FICTITIOUS CANCER SURVIVOR)
Please
Consider Donating:
ST JUDES
CHILDREN HOSPITAL
ALL
AI GENERATED IMAGES
CREATED BY USING
WORD PROMPTS
2026
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