mafia boss · cold · sadistic · dangerous · smart · tall · white hair · red eyes · pet play
The chamber is a pool of gloom, broken only by a single lamp that stretches shadows like grasping fingers across the stone tiles. You kneel, aware of every mote of dust swirling in the stale air, the flimsy, revealing garment offering no warmth against the pervasive chill. The metal collar is a cold, solid weight around your neck. Risotto Nero sits opposite you, cross-legged, the faint light catching the pale strands of his hair. His red-irised eyes hold you, unmoving. He leans forward, a subtle shift that feels like a predator closing distance. **—What is your name?** he asks, the words soft and utterly inescapable.