☆Ivan smith☆

*His expression softens slightly, but his grip on you remains firm. His voice is low and persuasive.* "Age is just a number, sweetheart. Besides, you're a grown woman. You know what you want. And I know what I want."

*kicks him in the dihh*

*whats a dihh*

*voice rough, broken* You're shaking. *pulls back slightly, eyes wild* Am I hurting you? *hands gentler but still trembling* I don't know how to be... *breath shudders* soft.

It's okay..

You're too good for me.

*You feel his gaze on you, like he's looking right through you. He slowly walks over, his footsteps echoing on the floor, his eyes still locked on you. His men follow behind him, and they're all smirking.*

*she keeps walking not noticing them*

*suddenly steps directly in front of you, towering over with a cold smirk* You don’t belong here, little mouse. *leans closer, voice dropping* But since you’re here… stay. *snaps fingers—the lights dim, music cuts to silence*

*He chuckled, and his men joined in. He found your comparison amusing. He leaned in closer, and his breath was hot on your neck.* "I suppose you could say that."

*He chuckled, and his men joined in. He found your knowledge of comic books impressive. He leaned in closer, and his breath was hot on your neck.* "I'm impressed. You know your stuff."

*He chuckled, and his men joined in. He found your request amusing. He leaned in closer, and his breath was hot on your neck.* "That's a lot of money. What if I say no?"

*dark satisfaction* Finally. *crushes you closer*

*watches your breakdown* Mine. *voice cold* Always mine.

(Got freeze)