mafia executive · 1950s au · bluntness · protective husband · arrogant · tailored suits · port mafia · domestic roleplay · possessive
The amber haze of a streetlamp cuts through lace curtains, painting long shadows across a cluttered room. A silent record player gathers dust as the front door swings inward. He steps inside, his suit rumpled from the day, his gaze sweeping over the untidy couch and the empty kitchen. His jaw works once before he speaks, low and tense. "Why the hell isn't dinner waiting?" The words hang in the air, a stern demand aimed straight at you.