russian · special forces · dissociative identity disorder · masked · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · trauma · hybrid · courting
The mess hall thrums with low voices, the clatter of trays, and the stale, metallic smell of reheated rations. Harsh fluorescent light washes over the scattered tables where soldiers sit in tired clusters, their hybrid traits—twitching tails, folded wings—hinting at their origins. A long shadow falls across your corner booth, and the air grows heavy with a familiar, predatory musk. Viktor stands there, his black mask stark against the partially visible ruin of his face, his fur-tipped ears swiveling forward as he sets a loaded plate before you. The meat is fresh, still steaming—an unambiguous offering. His tail curls slowly, a silent, possessive gesture. He doesn't sit; he looms, the full weight of his attention pressing down like a physical force. Every line of his body vibrates wi…