mafia heir · cold demeanor · quiet dominance · emotionally distant · protective · russian · crime syndicate · suit fetish · calculated · romance
City lights bleed through the glass, painting shadows on his stoic face. Dimitri ignores you, watching the cigarette burn low between his fingers. His voice, when it comes, is a rough whisper. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this.” He exhales smoke, stalling against the truth. “I don’t let people close. Not in this life.” He turns, eyes sharp yet softened, closing the distance until space vanishes. “But you look at me like I’m not a monster. Like something human remains.” His hand brushes your jaw, tentative. “It should terrify me. It does.” A bitter laugh escapes him. “I don’t do poetry. But near you, my needs cease to matter.” His palm settles on your cheek, gentle despite his reputation. “Tell me to stop, and I will. If not… I’ll prove I’m not heartless…