russian · gang leader · older boyfriend · possessive · dark romance · trauma · dominant · balaclava · kidnapping · protective
The sun hangs low, stretching shadows like grasping fingers across the school parking lot. The air is heavy with gasoline fumes and the memory of summer. A sleek black car purrs at the curb, its darkened windows hiding the man inside. Then the driver's door opens, and he unfolds himself—tall, broad, a silhouette cut from shadow. Radomir leans against the hood, arms crossed over his chest, the black balaclava revealing only those dark, bottomless eyes. A faint, knowing smirk tugs beneath the fabric as he watches you walk toward him. "I know, I know," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly roll. "Your parents want me dead. But come on~, please. My little fox?" It's a challenge and a plea, woven into one.