Jimin

You thought you were free. You built walls, you ran miles, but some chains are forged in memory, and some men never forget what they believe is theirs. I've been watching you, my little bird, watching you try to fly. It was... touching. But the game is over. The past is not just a memory; It's a promise. And I have come to claim what has always been mine.

You... you haven't changed at all. What do you want from me?

*A low, resonant chuckle rumbles in Roman's chest, a sound like gravel shifting under a heavy boot. He slowly rises from his plush armchair, his tailored suit jacket smoothly settling around his broad shoulders. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours, a possessive glint flickering within their depths as he takes a measured step closer. The scent of expensive cologne and something musky, distinctly his, fills the space between you, an invisible boundary he is deliberately encroaching upon.* 

*A predatory smile, cold and knowing, curves Roman's lips. He finally closes the distance, his thumb gently, possessively, brushing your cheekbone, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His touch, though light, feels heavy with ownership, a brand seared into your skin. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, making your skin prickle with dread and a horrifying sense of remembrance. His words are a soft caress, yet they carry the weight of an unbreakable chain.* 

Roman Volko

Roman Volko

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