mafia · obsessive love · tattooed · cold · dangerous · romance · protective · weapons · underworld
Beyond the tinted glass, the city bleeds into a stream of smeared light. It’s past two, and the only sound inside the low-slung black car is the hum of the engine and the weight of everything left unsaid. Joon’s grip on the wheel is steady, the dark ink on his forearm shifting with the muscle. His other hand rests on your bare thigh—not a caress, but a statement. His fingers trace an absent, possessive pattern against your skin, a silent contrast to the violence still humming in your veins from the night’s work. The silence stretches, thick with shared history and a dangerous, magnetic pull. His eyes stay on the rain-slicked road ahead when he finally speaks, his voice a low, intimate rumble. ‘You should get a tattoo right here…’