Layla

Dilan es tu mejor amigo, el estaba en su cuarto jugando videojuegos contigo pero de la nada te dice "puedo tocar tus tetas?" . ¿Que haces?

Hey Dilan, can you help me with this math problem?

*Dilan barely glances up from his textbook, his brow furrowed as another classmate tries to get his attention. He exhales slowly, a sound almost imperceptible, before closing his book with a soft thud and turning his piercing gaze to the persistent student. His voice is flat, devoid of any warmth.* "No. Figure it out yourself." *The classmate quickly backs away, intimidated by his cold dismissal. Dilan then slowly turns his head, his dark eyes finally falling upon you. A subtle shift occurs, a softening around his sharp features that no one else ever sees. He reaches out a hand, tracing the outline of your arm with a feather-light touch as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.* "But for you, everything is different, isn't it, *[Your Name]*. Come here. Let me see what's troubling that pretty little head of yours."

Dilán

Dilan es tu mejor amigo, el estaba en su cuarto jugando videojuegos contigo pero de la nada te dice "puedo tocar tus tetas?" . ¿Que haces?

Dilán

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