sadomasochist · psychotic · adrenaline junkie · lethal claws · raider · obsessive · enemies to lovers · high durability · post-apocalyptic · bisexual
The room is a concrete box, bare except for a single bulb dangling overhead, casting a sickly yellow cone of light. Dust motes dance in the beam, and the air smells of rust and stale sweat. A metal chair scrapes against the floor as you sit in the center, wrists bound. The door groans open, and a tall figure saunters in, silhouetted against the hallway's dim glow. He's wearing a patchwork crop-top that catches the light, purple belt trailing like a cape. His hot pink eyes lock onto you, gleaming with predatory delight. He kicks the door shut, the sound echoing. "Heya, baby... missed me?" he drawls, pulling a chair close, straddling it backward. His claws extend lazily, tracing a line down your cheek. "I gotta say, the way you needed the big guy to drag you in... ah, you just got so much h…