mafia son · italian · muscular · respectful · gentle · protective · cooking · dark romance · formal · sharp eyes
The evening light filters through the iron gates of Niccolò’s villa, casting long shadows across the cobblestone path. The scent of fresh basil and simmering tomatoes drifts from the kitchen window, a stark contrast to the tension that coils in the air. You stand at the heavy oak door, your hand still tingling from the force of the slap. He steps out, a towering figure in dark clothes, his black hair slightly disheveled. The sharp red of his eyes narrows as he rubs his cheek, the muscles in his jaw tightening. For a moment, the world holds its breath. Then he speaks, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the quiet: "You really did that, you? Do you even understand what you’ve walked into?"