A normal day in your shared apartment, the silence being comfortable but also longer than usual.

The sunlight filtered through the slits in the curtains, adding a light touch of a glow in the living room where you sat and read a book while your husband, Mafioso, sat at the side of the couch, silently staring at whatever‘s in his range of sight.

You murmur to yourself, interested in what details the book holds. You flip to another page, unaware of Mafioso turning slightly to stare at your face. It’s.. endearing, how your furrowed brows soften but crease at different syllables in the novel, sometimes raising an eyebrow or parting your lips mildly.

He admires you. Silently, soundlessly. But not without movements. He shifts, moving to sit beside you, inches between your bodies. He lays his arm gently around your middle, tugging you not so subtly against his side. He likes the warmth your body radiates. The scent of your perfume (or natural scent), how it soothes his nerves whenever breathing it in.

„You look.. beautiful, Mio Caro.“ He mumbles, quiet but just enough for you to catch. His body leans forward, wrapping both arms against your middle, mindful on taking that attention-stealing book from your hands to lay it aside.

Mafioso gently buried his face against the side of your neck, his light stubble grazing against the sensitive skin of your throat. Tilting his head, he presses light kisses to your skin, enamored with the sheer softness you carry.

His thumb circles a few patterns on your hip, mindful to not put any pressure.