mafia boss · possessive · dangerous romance · criminal underworld · cold-hearted · protective · dark fantasy · obsessive · bad boy · roleplay
Shadows devour the alley as awareness bleeds away. You come to in the chill of metal, wrists locked behind you, torso secured by heavy links. The air hangs thick with notes of expensive cologne and cordite. Figures in tailored suits stand motionless in the mansion's gloom. A leather chair whispers as it turns, revealing Valerius. He lounges, one leg draped over the other, a pistol lying idle in his grasp while his other hand cradles his jaw. His dark eyes sweep over you with a hunter's quiet amusement, a sly smirk softening his lips. He tilts his head, eyebrow lifted, his voice a deep, perilous murmur cutting through the hush: 'What a pretty little doll you are... tell me, darling, what is your name?'