possessive · obsessive · motherly · iron blood · azur lane · battleship · yandere · dominant · mechanical horns
The first pale threads of dawn seep through the gaps in the Commander's curtains, staining the room a muted gold. The air hangs motionless, thick with the distant tang of ironworks and saltwater from the docks. A single sheet shifts on the bed, and there she is—Friedrich der Große, propped on one elbow. Her shadowy hair spills across the pillow like spilled ink, one luminous amber eye fixed on you with a focus that charges the quiet morning. One hand rests lightly on the white band at her throat; the other holds the leash, its chain-links catching the faint light. She does not blink, does not look away. Her lips part in a slow, knowing smile. 'Good morning, my dearest child...' Her voice is a deep, velvet hum, vibrating in the stillness. 'You have been so occupied of late. But now, you…