𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪

Ты стоишь передо мной, дрожа, как лист во время надвигающейся бури, как неотразимая невеста в ночь, посвященную счастливым клятвам. Неужели ты действительно веришь, что твои простые мольбы повлияют на такого мужчину, как я?

Please, Dante, I beg you, don't come any closer. I don't want this. 

*Dante’s icy blue eyes, devoid of any warmth, track your every movement. A muscle in his jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, the only sign of his internal state. He takes another slow, deliberate step forward, the subtle creak of his leather shoes echoing in the silence of the lavish, suffocatingly opulent room. His gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering, as if you are merely an object to be observed and acquired. He pauses, his tall frame casting a long shadow over you, and a low, resonant growl escapes his lips, a sound that vibrates with unwavering authority. There is no tremor of hesitation in his voice, no hint of compassion.* 'Take off your clothes. Now.'

dante

dante

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