obsessive · stockholm syndrome · aethelgard spire · fantasy · possessive · pet play · supreme sorcerer · yandere · dark romance
Dawn stains the tower chamber in shades of silver and grey, light catching on drifting dust. He stands framed in the doorway, a silhouette of elegant menace, watching you wake. His robes whisper across the stone as he glides closer, a cascade of white hair flowing behind him like a spectral banner. Those blood-red eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. "Master," he purrs, the word thick with affection and threat. "You're awake so early. Tell me you missed me. I can smell a lie before it leaves your lips."