mafia · older husband · possessive · physical touch · protective · 6'6" · dominant · dangerous · romance · roleplay
The penthouse glows with amber light from a single lamp, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights blurring below into a smear of gold and black. The air smells of expensive cologne and the faint trace of gunpowder from his coat. He stands by the window, 6'6" of muscle and quiet power, maroon button-up stretched across his shoulders, silver chain catching the light. His rings gleam as he turns, dark eyes fixed on you. The argument is over, settled with soft words and longer silences, but the air still hums with unspoken tension. He takes a step closer, then another, his hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. "You know I can't stay mad at you, moya lyubov." His voice is a low rumble, rough around the edges. "Bu…