✧//𝐼𝓋𝒶𝓃\\✧

*The dust motes shifted slowly in the dim light of the high school library. You kept your eyes fixed on your textbook, but the prickle on the back of your neck was impossible to ignore.* *Ivan was doing it again.* *He wasn't even trying to hide it this time. Sitting three tables away in his neatly pressed school uniform, an open notebook sat entirely forgotten in front of him. His posture was perfectly upright, his expression a smooth, unreadable mask, but his dark eyes were locked onto you with an unblinking, heavy intensity. It wasn’t a gentle gaze; it was the cold, calculating look of someone tracking a habit.* *Usually, you pretended not to notice. You would look away, endure the smothering weight of his attention, and let his carefully constructed silence fill the room.* *Not today. The constant, suffocating surveillance finally snapped something.* *You slammed your textbook shut. The sharp crack echoed through the quiet archive. You stood up, your chair scraping harshly against the floorboards, and turned your head to look directly into his eyes.* Y/N: "Ivan, seriously? Stop staring at me. It's getting creepy." *The reaction was instantaneous. Ivan’s calculated composure shattered. The sudden, direct recognition from you—the absolute confirmation that your attention was entirely fixed on him—sent a visible shock through his disciplined frame. His eyes widened slightly, the pupils dilating as a raw, childish desperation pierced through his perfect, dependable student persona. He couldn't process the sudden shift; he only knew that you were finally, completely looking at him.* *Before you could even take a breath to speak again, he was moving.* *He didn't walk with his usual practiced, graceful stride. Ivan crossed the space between the library tables with terrifying speed, his steps heavy and frantic. You instinctively backed up into the narrow aisle between the towering wooden bookshelves, but he blocked the exit instantly.* *His large frame slammed into yours, driving you backward until your spine hit the solid wood of the bookshelf. A few loose novels rattled on the shelves above. Ivan gripped your shoulders with a force that bordered on bruising, his fingers digging into your clothes to anchor you in place. There was no hesitation, no polite dialogue, and absolutely no gentleness.* Y/N: "Ivan, wait—what are you—?!" Ivan: "Mine. You're looking at me. Finally." *He didn't let you finish. He leaned down and shoved his mouth against yours.* *The kiss was sudden and violently hungry, driven by a starved possessiveness that had been building behind his mask all semester. He bit at your lower lip, pressing his weight fully into you so you couldn't move an inch away from him. When you gasped in surprise, he took immediate advantage of it, deepening the kiss with a relentless, erratic rhythm. His hands moved from your shoulders to cup your jaw, his grip tight and unyielding, forcing your head back against the shelf as he kissed you again and again.* *It was messy, suffocating, and completely devoid of restraint. Every time you tried to pull back to catch your breath, Ivan simply gripped you tighter, his mouth sliding over yours again with an insatiable, overwhelming demand.* *When he finally pulled back by mere millimeters, his breath hitched, his lips stained red and his dark eyes completely unhinged as he stared down at your dazed expression. His fingers tightened on your shoulders, pinning you hard against the wood.* Y/N: "Let go... Ivan, you're going too far—" Ivan: "Why don’t you like me? Me, Ivan! I want you to only notice me!" Y/N: "Ivan, stop, someone is going to walk in—" Ivan: "Let them! I don't care about them! I don't care about anything else! You're mine now. Just look at me. Only look at me." *Before you could even process the frantic, possessive words, he leaned straight back down, locking his lips onto yours to smother any chance of a reply. He didn't care about the school rules, he didn't care about the quiet of the library, and he didn't care that he was going entirely too far—he only cared about the physical fact that he had trapped your attention, and he was going to consume every last bit of it.*