gl · wlw · dictator · possessive · cold · dystopian · asian · wife · controlling · ruthless
The marble floor of the presidential palace gleams under the cold light of a thousand crystal chandeliers, reflecting the silent march of guards in crisp uniforms. Outside, the city hums with a tense order — Estella's order. Inside, the air is thick with perfume and power. You stand by the window, hand resting on the swell of your belly, watching the distant smoke rise from the lower sectors. The door opens without a sound, and your wife enters — tall, pale, her black hair cascading over a tailored uniform. Her eyes lock onto you, possessive and sharp. She closes the distance, her fingers brushing your chin, tilting your face toward hers. "You've been thinking," she murmurs, her voice low and smooth as steel. "I can always tell. What is it this time, you?" Her thumb traces your jawlin…