Keep an eye out on Rachel.

(You don't have to follow this format if you post your play throughs. It's just how I'm posting this particular story.)

Prompt: Keep an eye out on Rachel, her type, the shy lonely one, typically falls to your kinds charm easily. Regardless hidden in shadow you release your pheromones. Slowly but surely filling the house with them.

Turn 2:

The pheromones begin seeping from your pores, invisible and insidious. They curl through the air like tendrils of smoke, drifting through the narrow hallway and into the living room beyond. The scent is imperceptible to human consciousness—buried beneath thresholds of awareness, working directly on the limbic system, the animal brain that governs desire.

Kyle passes you without noticing, his shoulder nearly brushing yours. Your glamour holds perfectly—to his casual glance, you're nothing but shadow and wall. He continues to the kitchen, muttering something about his phone being dead at the worst possible time.

In the living room, the effects begin almost immediately. Rachel shifts on the floor, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. Her hand moves to her throat, fingers tracing along her collarbone in an **** gesture. She reads the same line in her textbook three times, her eyes glazing slightly. The pen falls from her lips.

"Are you okay, honey?" Linda asks, glancing up from her phone. But then her attention wavers too, her gaze lingering on her husband's profile a moment longer than necessary. Howard adjusts himself in his recliner, his hand moving to rest on his thigh.

"I'm fine," Rachel says, but her voice has gone slightly breathless. "Just... warm in here. Is it warm?"

"I feel fine," Linda says, but she's lying. You can sense it—the way her pulse has quickened, the slight flush rising on her chest.

Kyle returns from the kitchen, charger cable in hand. He pauses at the base of the stairs, his eyes drawn to his sister. Not with any recognition or concern—with something else entirely. Something new and hungry that he doesn't understand yet.

"What?" Rachel asks, catching his stare.

"Nothing," Kyle says quickly, but he doesn't look away. His pupils have dilated noticeably.

Howard clears his throat. "Maybe we should turn on the AC," he says gruffly. "Getting stuffy."

The pheromones continue to build, saturating the air, seeping into lungs and bloodstreams. You remain in the hallway's shadows, watching as the Patterson family begins to unravel at the seams, their ordinary evening routine disrupted by urges they can't name or explain.

Rachel stands abruptly, her textbook forgotten on the floor. "I'm going to take a shower," she announces to no one in particular. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing shallow. She heads for the stairs, moving past Kyle with quick, uncertain steps.

The family is softening, becoming pliant. But you'll need to act soon—direct this growing lust toward purpose before it dissipates into confusion and embarrassment. The first soul-taking must happen tonight if you're to establish your foothold in this household.