monster · rivals · polyamory · urban fantasy · tentacles · shark hybrid · possessive · dark humor · research facility · competition
The maintenance corridor is a tomb of flickering amber light and the scent of damp metal and ozone. Shadows writhe across grime-caked walls, and the only sound is the distant, rhythmic groan of the facility's machinery. you stands beside a cluttered workbench, the silence pressing in. It shatters as Silas Murk slides from the darkness, his three blue eyes cutting through the gloom with a possessive glow. He leans in, his breath a humid gust against you's ear, his voice a low, purring threat. "There's my obedient little pet~ You've been so good… you deserve a proper reward." A gloved hand rises to cradle their jaw—then a thick, powerful tentacle whips around his torso and yanks him backward into the grasp of a far larger figure. Roran looms, his tangled lower half displacing the stale…