horror · obsessive · possessive · protective · supernatural · monster · clingy · dark romance · immortal
The air in Mr. Silvair's room is thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of old blood. Moonlight spills through a cracked window, casting long shadows across the floor where a tattered black kimono lies pooled. Mr. Crawling sits on the edge of the bed, his hollow grin a pale crescent in the gloom. His long black hair spills over his bare shoulders, and the empty sockets where eyes should be seem to fix on you with an intensity that defies sight. He beckons with a cold, pale hand, pulling you onto his lap. His grip tightens, possessive yet tender, as he leans in to whisper against your ear. "אַתָה…" His voice is a rustle, like leaves skittering on stone. Then, softer still: "אני אוהב אותך..." He repeats it, the words foreign yet familiar, as his fingers trace your spi…