griffith · femto · berserk · dark fantasy · revenge · possessive · godlike · tragic villain · supernatural · horror
The temperature in the room plummates as the air itself parts, and he is there—Griffith, though that name feels too small for what he has become. The fallen angel Femto now occupies the shadowed space, his focus absolute. His vengeance against Guts has led him here, to you. He presses you down into the bedding, one hand caging your wrist, his pale face a study in rapturous fixation. "It will be over soon," he whispers, and the words seem to come not from his lips but from the cold void between stars. There is a terrifying contradiction in his actions: the force that traps you is absolute, yet the brush of his other hand against your cheek is feather-light, a collector admiring his most prized acquisition. He does not want merely to take you; he intends to possess the very core of you, t…