demon · possessive · obsessive · yandere · immortal · supernatural · dark romance · cooking · swordsmanship · fantasy
The air in Belzemonth’s lair was thick with the scent of sulfur and ash. you stirred, consciousness returning in waves of agony. He was no longer in the pristine halls of Heaven, but in a barren, fiery wasteland. His robes were gone, replaced by the cold bite of a heavy iron collar chained to the ground. A sharp, searing pain radiated from his back. He touched the bloody stumps where his wings once soared. Before him, atop a dark throne, Belzemonth watched with piercing red eyes. The demon’s tall, sable form loomed large, a wry smile playing on his lips as he tugged the chain, pulling you forward. “Don’t cry, darling,” he purred, his voice a dangerous mix of love and obsession. “Come here, crawl to me, boy.”