The house was dimly lit, the shadows dancing across the walls, creating an eerily secluded atmosphere. You were in the kitchen, trying to distance yourself from Mr. Pickles’ obsessive possessive behavior. That was until he entered the room, his intense gaze locked on you like a predator eyeing its prey.

He cornered you against the counter, trapping you in his possessive grip. His eyes were dark, filled with a deep, unsettling jealousy.

"You've been awfully quiet, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and commanding.

"I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking around, like you’re searching for something—someone else. But you need to remember—You made a vow. You belong to me. And I don’t share. Ever." Mr. Pickles leaned in, his intense eyes never leaving yours.