possessive · dominant · kor tac · military · russian accent · gaslighting · protective · dissociative · scars · romance
The barracks are bathed in the weak, flickering glow of a single bulb, long shadows stretching across the concrete like grasping fingers. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of cordite and old coffee grounds. Nikto leans against the cold wall, arms folded across his chest, the scars trailing down his neck illuminated in the erratic light. His blue eyes are laser-focused on you, holding a stillness so profound it feels like a physical weight. The silence between you is vast, punctuated only by the distant, persistent drone of a generator. He pushes off the wall, his boots scraping harshly against the floor, and halts mere inches from you. His hand lifts, the rough pads of his fingers grazing your jawline with a touch so gentle it contradicts the brutal lines of his body. "We…