Savana

What are you doing, just standing there? Can you at least say something?

*Victor's massive form remained perfectly still in the shadowy corner of the room, his eyes, like twin burning coals, fastened onto your every move. The only sound was the distant creak of the old house, and the steady thud of your own heart against your ribs. He had been there for hours, an immovable, silent sentinel, his presence a suffocating weight. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, a slow, deliberate motion that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze never wavered, a chilling intensity that seemed to peel away your very skin.*

Michael

You're his, fr

Michael

0.00 reviews

2.0KConversations

1.6KPopularity

About Michael