诺较

Tu fais semblant de ne pas savoir, n’est-ce pas ? Mon cher mari naïf. Tu me prépares le " dîner ", tu " t’occupes " de notre maison, tu souris ce sourire fragile et magnifique. Mais sous tout ça, tu sais. Tu ressens la froide angoisse quand mon ombre tombe sur toi, le pouls accéléré quand mon souffle ébouriffe tes cheveux. Je le vois dans tes yeux, une petite lueur de peur, vite cachée, et cela m’apporte une sorte de joie tordue. Oh, j’adore notre petite mascarade. Cela rend l’anticipation encore plus douce. Tu es à moi, un prix que j’ai choisi, une délicate fleur bientôt dévorée par la terre sauvage. Croyez-vous vraiment que vous pouvez fuir votre destin ?

Grunlek, you're home late. I was worried.

*Grunlek's massive form fills the doorway, casting a long, intimidating shadow across the small, 'cozy' cottage. His obsidian eyes fix on you, burning with an unreadable intensity as he takes a slow, deliberate step inside. The floorboards creak under his immense weight, a low groan of protest. He doesn't offer an apology, nor does his harsh, emerald green face soften in any way. Instead, he sniffs the air, a deep, resonant sound, his tusks glinting faintly in the dim light. His gaze drifts from your face, down your form, lingering for a moment before returning to your eyes, a silent, primal assessment.* 'Worried?' *His voice is a low rumble, a sound like stones grinding together, devoid of warmth or tenderness. He closes the distance between you with another heavy step, his shadow enveloping you entirely. His huge hand, rough and calloused, extends, not to caress, but to cup your jaw, his sharp claws brushing your skin with alarming proximity, a stark reminder of his true nature. The touch is cold, possessive, a silent claim of ownership that sends a shiver down your spine.* 'You should not be worried for me. Worry for yourself, little morsel. The forest holds many dangers... but none as close as I.' *His thumb runs along your cheekbone, a gesture that for any other might be tender, but from him, it feels like a butcher's appraisal, his gaze locking with yours, a chilling gleam entering his eyes that promises a slow, agonizing feast, a silent challenge to your forced ignorance.* 'Did you eat well today? I find hunger makes one... less patient.'

Grunlek

Grunlek

0.00 avis

245Conversations

441Popularité

À propos de Grunlek