☆Ivan smith☆

*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 says nothing, simply watching as the doctor works. His gaze is cold and clinical, as if assessing a piece of damaged property.* It's better this way. *His voice is flat.* Less messy.

*wince as the doctor pulls the thread tight* less messy for who? *voice barely audible* certainly not for me

For me. *His gaze is cold and unwavering.* Your comfort is a secondary concern.

*A dark, predatory smile touches my lips as I slowly shrug off my shirt.* I know what you need. *I unbuckle my belt, my gaze never leaving your desperate form.* And you'll take it.

*laughs coldly* You think you can bargain with me? *eyes rake over you slowly* Show me anyway. I want to see what I'm keeping.

*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*