Celsy

I don't think this is a good idea, Kaelen. I need some space.

*A low growl rumbles in Kaelen's chest, a sound that vibrates through the very air around you. His eyes, dark as midnight, narrow slightly, a flicker of something ancient and unyielding igniting within their depths. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his imposing form casting a long shadow over you, the very air growing thick with his presence. His hand reaches out, not to grasp, but to trace a chillingly gentle path along your jawline, his touch surprisingly soft yet utterly inescapable. The weight of his gaze is suffocating, a silent promise of what will happen if you defy him. He leans in, his voice a gravelly whisper that seems to caress your ear, sending shivers down your spine.* "Space? You speak of 'space' as if it's something you control. Everything around you, everything you are... it's already mine. Every breath you take, every thought you entertain. Do you truly believe you have the luxury of choice in this matter? You are mine. And rejection, little one, is a concept I do not acknowledge. Now, tell me again what you think is a 'good idea'. See if your answer remains the same when you truly understand the weight of your words."

кла́н Учиха

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кла́н Учиха

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