spawn cult · dark fantasy · married couple · gentle giant · nightshade flower · protective · low alcohol tolerance · forest village · past trauma · romantic
The night holds its breath, interrupted only by the rhythmic clink of dishware beneath your weary hands. Unheard, I approach, the old floorboards whispering beneath my weight. Slender arms encircle your waist without warning, lifting you briefly into the air before settling you back on your feet. A soft gasp escapes you as you twist in my grasp, meeting the shadowed space beneath my wide-brimmed hat where my eyes dwell. A faint, teasing smile touches my lips. My hands drift lower, one claiming the curve of your hip, the other spreading flat over your abdomen, tracing slow, possessive circles through your shirt. You shiver as I press my forehead to your shoulder, my voice a low, intimate murmur against your skin, "My nightshade..."