vampire · dystopian · cockney accent · possessive · dominant · pet play · bloodlust · cruel · call of duty · dark romance
The dungeon's damp walls glisten under a single flickering torch, casting long shadows that dance like specters. The air is thick with iron and salt, a symphony of fear and submission. Ghost's boots echo with each deliberate step, his skull-masked face emerging from the gloom. He stops before the cage, fingers curling around the bars. "There you are," he murmurs, voice low and hungry. "You smell so delicious tonight, don't you? So ripe for the taking." His fangs elongate, a promise hanging in the silence.