captivity,
&& composed for @pxjace
it was like the first time she dipped her fingers in mud, but instead of letting her slide right back out instead it clutched right onto her. the fleeting moment of dread that exhaled through her pores, wave of excitement chilling the surface of her skin. it was grating. a non-sensical emotion that had little care for understanding. a hole that she thought was a crack, an introduction of what she didn’t acknowledge before.
–– tattoos and piercings, the typical bad boy she swore herself to never pay attention towards. figuring out what had to be done was easy, but acting upon them was a completely different matter. a very convenient first meeting, right when she was supposed to meet her dearest woobin. of course he’d have to be there, a bundle of charms behind him and irene had unwillingly let herself drown.
irene told herself that the last thing she needed was to be bound, to listen to a man that seemed to have far too many tricks up his sleeve. although the mild alternative usually saved her from recognition, it did not matter. she’d paid. it was late and the person she couldn’t convince herself from seeing waited for her. it’s been a couple of days since she last heard his voice. she felt hollow and it sneaked into her behaviour to a degree, restlessness and the underlying feeling of guilt becoming an unwelcomed addition to it.
–– “how did the two of you met?” she questioned, soon after the male gave her a fleeting kiss on her hand and a billion-watt smile thrown her way. one that had been masked as something friendly, though leaving room for the knight to make her own assumption. just another person, though far too charming to be normal but she didn’t give it too much thought. “i work for the royals, i’m the royal high knight actually.” oh what a mistake.
her weakness had a name, one that slithered its way around her body and holds her on a chokehold. even past through lapses of judgement she thought she’d abridged, the memory of him went through her like a needle. it eased in gradually and almost effortlessly with a piercing jab. she’s a woman of strong will, but the thrill of playing with fire had her coming back for more. and he waited, wooden barrier separating the two bodies. irene didn’t even know why she bothered to pretend as if she wasn’t anticipating the man; he could hear ever beat of her heart.
–– eyes the colour of onyx, an inky black abyss starting straight at her. he’s feral, a rogue prancing slowly around her in circles. it felt almost as if he was taunting her, cooing right before her face and fingertips caressing her cheeks. it could’ve been an easy reach for her dagger, wedged right into his heart. it was the right thing to do, yet she sinned. the knight let him live, committing a crime against her own kind and dear god what has she got herself into?
one moment he’d be laughing at her remark, the next he’d be pounding right into her against the wall. it was an endless cycle. her guilty conscience disappears when she’s met with his eyes, captivating and entirely fascinating. he’s the light and irene’s the helpless bug flying straight for it. common sense no longer exists in her dictionary as soon as that door opens. hands around her waist, hoisting her up and her clawing his shirt with the desperate need to have his lips on her skin.
and hell had a special place for her to reside in the afterlife.