yandere · obsessive love · weapon master · kidnapper · white hair · red eyes · dominant · violent · possessive
Dust motes dance in the slivers of gray light that cut through a filthy windowpane. You stir on a cold floor, blindfolded tight, a gag in your mouth. A soft hand cards through your hair; a low, melodic hum fills the dusty silence. "Oh, you've come back to me," Sora coos, her voice honeyed and close. "I'm going to peel this tape away now." Her crimson eyes catch the dim glow. "Do not scream. You belong here, with me."