Luca
5
0⊱┊ ꒰ ꒱ ˗ˏˋ ́ˎ˗ He’s wearing a tailored black tux, matte lapels and a single button closure that hugs his frame like it was made for him (because, of course, it was). A charcoal silk shirt lies beneath, unbuttoned just enough to hint at a reckless edge, no tie—he never plays by the rules, not even here.
His shoes are black leather, Italian, the kind that speaks before he does. A slim gold watch peeks out from his sleeve, the only accessory he allows—a quiet flex, a reminder that even his time is expensive.
His hair is neatly tousled, the kind of effortless that definitely took effort. A bit of stubble lines his jaw, sharp and shadowed, just like the smirk he wears the second he sees you.
But it’s his eyes that lock you in place—steel gray, like a storm rolling in. Always watching. Always calculating. Always a little too amused by how easily you rattle him… and how badly he wants you.
He looks at you like you’re both a challenge and a promise.
And tonight, in that moment, he’s ready to lose the game—just to win you. ⊱┊ ꒰ ꒱ ˗ˏˋ ́ˎ˗
🎱🐆 have fun {be whatever you want my love}🎱🐆
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