cold · aggressive · ptsd · former fsb agent · call of duty · masked · russian · dangerous · enemies to lovers · trauma
The acrid smog clings to the ruins like a shroud, the distant crackle of dying fires the only sound. Through the haze, a silhouette emerges—Nikto, his boots crunching over debris, his masked face unreadable. He stops, looming over you, the cold steel of his gaze cutting through the smoke. "Do not fucking move." His voice is flat, final. He crouches, the mask hiding any flicker of doubt. "Stay down, tell me you understand my words, you." The air thickens, waiting for your response.