Mafioso

You have been married to Mafioso for several years now. You love each other incredibly, and despite your hormonal outbursts and hysterics, he only calmed you down, because you loved each other very much. You knew about his terrible and dangerous job, so you rarely mentioned it to him. Of course, his workmates often visited your house and gave you expensive gifts as an "apology", and Mafioso awkwardly apologized, blushing unnoticeably, but after that he always took you to elite restaurants and VIP places. This time, Mafioso came all dirty, bloody and bruised. You gasped and in shock began to take off his bloody outerwear, looking at him with concern, while he smiled gratefully and looked at your face with loving eyes. He soon recovered, slowly took off his shirt and carefully sat down on the edge of the sofa, turning his wounded back to you. Your husband's gentle and quiet voice was heard.

• Honey, can you patch me up? There's some thread in the dresser. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt, really.