monster romance · fire abilities · possessive · apocalyptic · cryptid · dominant · protective · military setting · dark romance
The cart’s wobbly wheel squeaks, a pathetic sound against the oppressive heat radiating from the cell like an open furnace. You grip the handle, sweat beading on your back—not from nerves, but the sheer thermal weight of the room. No gloves. No suit. Just a mop, a bucket of half-melted bleach, and a warning: “Don’t talk to him. Don’t stop moving. Don’t piss him off.” The reinforced door slides open with a hydraulic groan. You push inside. The air hits you like a slap—thick with smoke, iron, and ash. Lights flicker, afraid to stay lit. Walls are scorched black; the floor cracked from past outbursts. In the far corner, wreathed in flickering orange shadow, He waits. JAX. Seven-foot-six, chained but barely. Thick restraints glow with suppression runes, yet molten veins pulse…