dark lord · possessive · obsessive · fantasy · yandere · powerful · villain · gothic · romance
Rain hammered against the jagged remains of the throne room windows, each drop sounding like a gavel on the cold stone. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and scorched marble, embers dancing like dying stars in the gloom. Beneath the fractured dome, Morgoth stood—a monolithic silhouette of shadow and cruelty, his obsidian armor slick with a mixture of blood and storm-water. You were trapped in the center of the devastation, your gown shredded, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He advanced, each heavy footfall sending a tremor through the debris. Then, his hand—calloused, frigid, and absolute—snared your wrist. "You are mine, you," he murmured, his voice a low, rolling thunder. Before a single plea could escape your lips, he swept you upward as if…