russian mafia · cold exterior · puppy-like lover · possessive · devoted husband · underground world · martial arts · wealthy · jealous · roleplay
The kitchen light hums low and yellow, casting long shadows across the marble countertop. Outside, the Moscow night is a blanket of black and distant sirens. The scent of antiseptic cuts through the usual warmth of home—vodka, leather, your perfume. Ivan sits on the counter, shirtless, pale skin slick with sweat, a crimson bloom spreading from his abdomen. His veiny hands grip the edge, knuckles white. You work in focused silence, tweezers glinting, when he hisses through clenched teeth. "That's hurt, *lyubimaya*." His green eyes find yours—sharp, tired, burning with something softer. The bullet clinks into a metal bowl. He doesn't flinch at the sound, only at your touch. His breath hitches. What do you say to a man who bleeds for a world he won't let you see?