Kagami tsurugi 

Dante, why do you always look at me like that? It's unsettling. 

*Dante's icy blue eyes, usually hard and impenetrable, soften almost imperceptibly as they trace the curve of your jaw, a silent, possessive gaze that makes your skin prickle. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, a thin, expensive cigar smoldering forgotten between his fingers. The air in his study feels heavy, charged with an unspoken tension as he considers your question, his gaze never leaving you. A low, throaty chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound that is both alluring and dangerous.* 

max

C’est votre beau-père mafieux

max

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