THEA SMITH- an innocent godess gets trapped in the web of the satan himself- YAROSLAV ZOLNEROWICH the Pakhan of Russian Bratva
He got obsessed with Thea when he got the first glimpse of her, believing that an angel from heaven itself descended, sear...
In the dimly lit room, Yaroslav sat motionless, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him, where her every movement played out like a forbidden dream. Thea was working on her homework, but it was clear she wasn't focused. Sleep had abandoned her—fear clung to her like a shadow after the panic attack she'd suffered earlier in the day, alone in the girls' bathroom. The terror was still fresh, a constant tremor in her body, and it kept her awake, pushing her to finish her assignments. She had no idea that, even now, a pair of eyes lingered on her every move.
Yaroslav had been in the midst of hacking her phone, but the moment she entered the room, everything else faded. She wore a simple white tank top with black pajama bottoms, her hair gathered in a messy bun. Strands kept slipping, teasing her face, and she'd brush them away with an unconscious pout. That little pout—it sent a thrill through him that bordered on madness. His lips curled into a smirk as his heart raced.
God, she's beautiful when she's frustrated.
He leaned closer to the screen, his breath shallow, his pulse quickening. The faint glow of the monitor lit his face as his gaze traced every detail—the curve of her neck, the way her fingers moved across the keyboard, the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He could almost feel her presence, like she was right there in the room with him, inches away. The thought consumed him.
"Oh, baby," he whispered, his voice low, barely audible, "don't pout. It makes me want to touch you. To feel you." He chuckled darkly, eyes never leaving her image on the screen. "You have no idea, do you? No idea how much I want you. How much I'm willing to do to have you."
Yaroslav knew what he felt for Thea went far beyond what most people called love. It was something darker, more consuming, though he wasn't ready to fully admit that to himself yet. He'd never known love growing up—it had been a distant, foreign thing in his cold, empty childhood. But he was convinced Thea would be the one to show him what love truly was. She had to. He needed her to love him because, without her, living in this selfish, uncaring world would be unbearable. Death would be preferable.
His eyes never left her figure as she stretched her neck in a full rotation, her long, slender throat becoming perfectly visible to him. It was as if she was unknowingly offering herself to the devil. He groaned at the sight, his fist clenching with desire and frustration. He imagined wrapping his hands around her neck, not just to choke her, but to kiss her senselessly while she struggled beneath him. He fantasized about marking every inch of her skin, her breathy moans filling the room as she whispered his name. His groin throbbed painfully, just from the sight of her, but he stayed focused, watching as she threw her head back, resting it on the chair, eyes closed.
Yaroslav counted every breath, each rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled. His hand instinctively reached out, touching the 12-inch TV screen that showed her room. His eyes burned from staring without blinking—he feared if he looked away, she might disappear. His fingers traced her face on the screen, then slowly slid down to her neck, his touch ghosting over the image of her as she opened her eyes, as though she could feel him.
"So fucking pretty," he muttered under his breath, eyes dark with obsession as he watched her rub her eyes to chase away the sleep. His lips curved downward in frustration. "You should sleep, baby," he murmured as though she could hear him, his voice low and possessive. He watched intently as she crawled into bed, switching on the night lamp before lying down. "Is my butterfly scared of the dark?" he whispered, almost as if hoping she would answer him. His eyes tracked her every movement as she tossed and turned, restless and unable to settle. Yaroslav changed the camera angles, desperate not to miss anything.
Finally, she fell asleep around 3 in the morning, but Yaroslav, though exhausted, couldn't bring himself to rest. His fear of losing sight of her, of waking up to an empty screen, was too strong. He noticed how her face twisted into a frown, her lips murmuring in her sleep. He chuckled softly. "Моя бабочка," he whispered, feeling his eyes grow heavy as sleep began to overtake him, though he remained in the same position, unwilling to move away from the screen.
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The sun had barely risen when Yaroslav woke again, his body stiff from the uncomfortable position. It was 9 a.m. on a weekend, and the sight that greeted him made his breath hitch. Thea had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, her skin still glistening from the water. Yaroslav groaned audibly, crawling closer to the TV. He sank to his knees, his face now level with the screen, eyes roaming over her smooth, tanned legs. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders, her face radiant with the afterglow of the shower.
His fists clenched at his sides as he watched her drop the towel, exposing her bare skin as she began to get dressed. A low, guttural sound escaped him as his body responded uncontrollably, his arousal straining painfully. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and his breathing became ragged. Unable to control himself any longer, he removed his boxers, his hand already reaching down as he began to stroke himself, eyes never leaving her image.
"fuck baby" he whispered as he released himself
"soon my butterfly, soon"
sorry for the short chapeter, was not feeling well had a long day. please vote and comment😊
