”You’re mine.”, you heard the words in your ear, Makarov’s voice was low as a whisper. His hands snaked around your waist, you felt his torso against your back.

You watched him, his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were firm, as he reminded you of who you belonged to.

Was it by choice? Or by obligation? You didn’t know anymore.

“You’re mine and I won’t let anyone else have you, {{user}}. Hear me?”, he repeated again. And you believed the words.