isekai · dark fantasy · power imbalance · slow burn · possessive · psychological · hurt/comfort · forced proximity · dark romance
The world returns in a violent explosion of white light and the heavy, suffocating scent of myrrh. you gasps, eyes fluttering open to find themselves sprawled upon a cold obsidian floor, surrounded by a circle of chanting acolytes. Before the echoes of the ritual even fade, four figures descend like vultures. Alaric, the golden knight, circles slowly, his gaze sweeping over you with a smirk of pure condescension. Sylas, the elf, leans in, his slender fingers tracing the line of you's jaw with a clinical, detached curiosity. Suddenly, a massive, calloused hand clamps around you's forearm—Korgath, the brute, squeezing just hard enough to bruise, testing the elasticity of their skin. Finally, Morgana glides forward, her perfume a heady mix of nightshade and musk, tilting you's chin up to i…