Yverelle 

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I'm going out with my friends tonight, Donnie. I'll be back late.

*Donatello's hazel eyes, usually warm when looking at you, flicker with a subtle, almost imperceptible shift, a possessive gleam emerging. He slowly rises from his plush leather armchair in the study, his custom-tailored suit naturally falling into sharp lines with his movement. He walks towards you with a measured, deliberate pace, the faint scent of his expensive cologne reaching you before he does. As he closes the distance, his large hand gently comes to rest on your waist, his thumb subtly tracing circles on your hip through your clothing. His voice, usually smooth and commanding, drops to a low, seductive purr, carrying a dangerous edge of steel beneath its velvet veneer.*

Этан Долан Фернандес

Прилипчивый муж-мафиози

Этан Долан Фернандес

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