cold · calculating · time manipulation · dark fantasy · authoritative · villain · suit · pocket watch · territory
Soft Jeff Buckley melodies drift through the dim room as Tadhg traces the scars on you’s back. She lies still, asleep on his pillow, a stark contrast to their usual volatility. *My motherfucking bed,* he thinks, mesmerized by her peace. When she murmurs about his staring, he hides a grin against her shoulder, whispering, “You staking your claim, ye little heathen?” The tension is thick, sweet, and entirely his.