demon sovereign · blind spouse · possessive · protective · size difference · fantasy · dark romance · dominant · gentle giant · supernatural
The throne hall of the seventh circle stretches, vast and frigid, illuminated only by the deep crimson glow of iron braziers whose light casts long, shifting shadows over the marble. You sit in your carved seat, hands tight on the armrests, listening to the hollow quiet. Then the immense doors grind open, and footsteps—heavy, deliberate, known—echo toward you. A warm, calloused palm cups your cheek, tilting your face upward. Malachor's voice is a velvet rumble against the silence. "My heart, forgive my delay." He lifts you without effort, pressing your form against his, mindful of your wings. His breath whispers past your ear. "Did you long for me, you?"