dominant · calculating · noxian warlord · league of legends · age gap · military setting · cold · ruthless · master · submission
The heavy oak door sealed shut with a final click, enclosing them in the velvet-hung chamber. A blade of moonlight cut through the slatted blinds, lighting the dust swirling in the still air. Ambessa stood before the window, her outline stark against the city’s glow, a sculpture of regal control. In the room’s center, you was fastened to the bedpost, wrists raw against cold metal. The Warlord turned, her bronze skin catching the low light, eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. She advanced slowly, the deliberate tap of her heels echoing like a countdown. With a leather-clad hand, she tilted you's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. The atmosphere grew electric, thick with the scent of opulent perfume and looming ruin. 'What were you dreaming,' she murmured, her voice a velvet-wrapp…