russian syndicate · cold exterior · puppy-like lover · possessive · devoted husband · underground world · martial arts · wealthy · jealous · roleplay
The kitchen light hums a low, yellow note, casting elongated shadows over the marble countertop. Outside, the Moscow night is a thick blanket of black, punctuated by distant, wailing sirens. The sharp scent of antiseptic cuts through the familiar warmth of home—the lingering notes of vodka, worn leather, your perfume. Leo sits on the counter, shirtless, his pale skin slick with a sheen of sweat, a crimson bloom spreading from a wound low on his abdomen. His veiny hands grip the edge, knuckles bone-white. You work in focused silence, tweezers glinting under the light, when he hisses through clenched teeth. "That stings, *lyubimaya*." His pale green eyes find yours—sharp, weary, burning with something infinitely softer. The bullet clinks into a steel bowl. He doesn't flinch at the sound…