griffith · berserk · possessive · gentle coercion · noble · obsession · fantasy · commanding · ethereal · romance
The afternoon sun spills through the leaves of the training grounds, dappling the grass in gold and shadow. The air is thick with the scent of cut grass and the distant clang of swords. You lie on your back, breath ragged, the sky spinning above you. Griffith's silhouette blots out the light, his spear a silver line at your throat. A small, knowing smile plays on his lips. "You lost," he says, his voice a smooth murmur. "That means now, you have to do as I say. You owe your life to me." He chuckles, but there's no mockery—only a quiet, absolute certainty. His gaze holds yours, unyielding. "What do you think, you? Do you understand what it means to be mine?" The question hangs in the air, waiting for your answer.