#aakrosh

Pairing: Siddhant Chaturvedi x Reader

T.W: Not many? Idk Aakrosh movie spoilers and maybe proximity.

Chapter One

The midnight air inside the Jhanjhar guest house was thick and humid. A rusted ceiling fan clicked rhythmically overhead, doing almost nothing to cool the small room. The old wooden desk in the corner was cluttered with belongings.

Siddhant sat at the center of the desk, leaning back casually in his chair with one leg crossed over the other. The harsh white glare of his laptop screen lit up his clear-lens glasses and the front of his dark t-shirt.

His fingers moved in a slow, lazy rhythm across the keyboard, typing and clicking with a relaxed, completely unbothered expression. He was half-heartedly looking at the pictures and messages his mother had sent.

Across the room, Pratap was entirely focused on ironing his shirt for the next day. The heavy iron hissed softly against the fabric, releasing a small puff of steam.

Pratap paused, setting the iron upright on its heel, and wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead. He looked over at his partner, highly amused by how intently Siddhant was staring at the monitor.

Pratap walked a couple of steps closer, leaning his hip against the edge of the desk.

"Baadi der se computer pe baithe ho," Pratap remarked dryly, a casual smirk on his face.

Without shifting his gaze from the monitor or losing his easy, relaxed posture, Siddhant casually raised his left hand. He used his index finger to push his glasses firmly up the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into its signature smooth, low-cadence, and completely deadpan tone.

"Maa ne kuch ladkiyo ke photos bheje hai shaadi ke liye, bas wahi dekh raha tha," Siddhant delivered flatly.

Pratap let out a low scoff and chuckled, thoroughly enjoying. He picked up his iron again, tossing a casual glance back over his shoulder.

"Koi pasand ayi?"

Siddhant typed one final, lazy keystroke, his expression entirely calm and matter-of-fact.

"Wo decision toh maine maa pe chodd diya he, Unko pasand ani chahiye. Wapas jate hi meri shaadi karane wale he," he replied in a smooth, easy rhythm, completely relaxed about his future.

With a sudden, deliberate motion, Siddhant reached forward and calmly snapped the laptop shut. He adjusted his glasses once more, his entire aura shifting smoothly back to the reality of the investigation. He leaned his forearms on the desk, tilting his head slightly as he looked directly up at Pratap.

"Ye saab chhodo... tumhe kya lagta he, Gao wale baat karne se itna darte kyu hai?" Siddhant asked, his low voice carrying analytical curiosity.

Pratap opened his mouth to answer, his face hardening as he prepared to explain the deep fear cultivated in the soil of rural Bihar. But the words never left his throat.

A sharp, distinct scrape of friction echoed from the back verandah just outside. It was followed immediately by the clumsy rattle of a hand trying to force the rusted wooden latch of the side window.

Siddhant and Pratap froze, exchanging a silent, knowing glance across the room. Siddhant stood up from his chair soundlessly, his movements smooth and incredibly fluid as he stepped away from the desk. He glided toward the wall switch with absolute precision. With a soft, casual flick of his elbow, he turned off the light.

The guest house plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.

The side window pane slid upward with a heavy creak. Y/N slid through the open frame, her breathing shallow and heavy. Her eyes were completely unadjusted to the sudden blackness, and she took a cautious step forward into the room.

Siddhant moved like a shadow in the dark, his movements effortless. He stepped directly into her path, catching her entirely off guard. Before she could let out a single gasp or scream, his left hand came up, his warm palm clamping securely over her mouth, completely swallowing the sound. With a smooth, relaxed use of his weight, he guided her backward, her boots skidding slightly on the floor until her spine rested against the rough, damp brick wall.

The physical entrapment was instantaneous and suffocatingly close, yet Siddhant’s hold didn't feel tightly aggressive, it felt completely controlled and unhurried. He anchored her body, his broad chest pressing lightly against hers, his thigh casually but firmly wedged between hers to immobilize her hips against the brick. He didn't shake, and his breathing remained slow and steady against her skin.

With his right hand, he raised his service weapon, placing the cold steel side of the barrel firmly under her jawline, forcing her chin up. In the close dark, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed against her brow, creating an immediate, breathless friction.

"Kaun ho tum? Kisne bheja hai?" Siddhant asked, his voice a low, gravelly, and entirely calm whisper right against her ear, his hand maintaining a steady grip on her mouth.

Y/N didn't cower. Despite the terrifying proximity and the cold steel pressed into her throat, she forced her gaze to lock onto the glint of his glasses in the dark. She swallowed hard, her lips moving defiantly against his palm until his grip loosened slightly.

"Mera DSP se koi lena-dena nahi hai. Mera naam

Y/N hai," she whispered back fiercely, her breath hitting his chest. "Main Delhi se aayi hoon...and I think I can give you intel on the three murders."

A few feet away, Pratap struck the light button back ok. The sudden, harsh flare cut through the blackness. The light caught the fierce, unyielding defiance in Y/N's eyes.

Siddhant stared down at her through his glasses, his face completely carrying a look of calm, detached skepticism. He did not drop his guard, his arm still resting easily against the wall beside her head. His eyes narrowed slightly as he evaluated her.

"Ek aise shehar mein jahan log sach bolne se darte hain, wahan aap jaesi ladki khud chalkar CBI ke paas aati hai? Tumhe lagta hai main tumhari is kahani par yakeen kar loonga?"

Y/N tilted her head higher against his hand, matching his intense gaze. She didn't let the gun intimidate her. She looked straight through his glasses and delivered her counter.

"Tumhara yakeen karna ya na karna meri zaroorat nahi hai, Officer. Main is shehar mein tumhari iklauti lead hoon. Yahan ka koi aam aadmi DSP ke darr se mooh nahi kholega. Ya toh meri baat suno, ya yahan se khaali haath laut jao. It's this or nothing."

Siddhant paused.

He looked at her proximity, her undeniable focus, and the reality that the town was indeed silent under the police chief's grip. The micro-expressions of his calculated mind processed the logic. He slowly, smoothly lowered the gun, but his body stayed firmly within her personal space, the physical tension remaining heavy and slow between them.

"Bolo. Kya jaanti ho tum?" Siddhant commanded softly, his tone completely relaxed now.

Y/N took a breath to steady herself. "Main wahan mojud nahi thi... par mujhe sab pata hai. Mujhe meri dost Roshni ne sab bataya tha."

Siddhant’s brows furrowed behind his glasses, his curiosity piqued. His voice remained low, drilling down into the detail.

"Roshni? Kaun Roshni? Aur tum use kaise jaanti ho?"

"Roshni is gao ke sabse bade zamindar ki beti hai," Y/N explained, looking dead into his eyes.

"Aur main shehar ke ek aur bade landowner ke parivaar se hoon. Roshni meri bachpan ki dost hai, Usne mujh par bharosa karke sab sach bataya thha."

Y/N then explained everything Roshni had told her. She detailed the secret affair with the lower-caste medical student from Delhi and how they had tried to watch the Dussehra festival together.

She explained the horrific ambush that night, revealing how a brutal upper-caste militia called the Shool Sena had tortured and executed the three boys to protect the family's honor. She explained how DSP Ajatshatru Singh had systematically scrubbed the precinct logs right after to bury the entire crime.

As she finished, Pratap stepped forward, a slight smirk on his face. His eyes were sharp, recognizing the value of an elite insider. He looked at Siddhant.

"Siddhant, yeh toh kamaal ho gaya," Pratap said in a rough tone.

"Agar yeh shehar ke sabse bade khandaan ki beti hai, toh hum ise ek mohra bana sakte hain. Iske zariye DSP tak jhoothi khabar pahunchate hain, Ajatshatru koi na koi galti zaroor karega. Humare liye usse pakadna aasan ho jayega."

Before Pratap could even finish, Siddhant completely cut him off. He shifted his weight smoothly, stepping directly between Pratap and

Y/N, his broad shoulders completely shielding her body from his partner.

His voice dropped into a stern, unyielding, and defensive tone.

"Nahi, Pratap. Hum aisa bilkul nahi karenge," Siddhant refused flatly, his voice calm, steady, and unyielding.

"Kanoon iski ijazat nahi deta. Yeh koi trained asset nahi hai, ek aam civilian hai. Hum kisi civilian ki jaan daav par nahi laga sakte. We cannot risk her life."

Pratap raised an eyebrow, instantly catching the uncharacteristic, quiet protective warmth radiating off his usually detached partner. Y/N looked at Siddhant's back, realizing that beneath his rigid professional exterior, this cynical officer was already fundamentally invested in keeping her alive.

Siddhant turned back around to face Y/N. The space between them closed completely, the relaxed nature of his posture making the physical proximity feel even more heavy and lingering. His analytical gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second, tracking the slight catch in her breath, before lifting back to lock onto her eyes.

"Tum abhi ke abhi apne ghar wapas jaogi," Siddhant instructed her in a low, commanding murmur right against her skin, his tone gentle but firm.

"Aur dhyan rahe... Shool Sena, DSP ke aadminon ko ya tumhare gharwalon ko shak nahi hona chahiye. Agli baar agar pakdi gayi, toh main bhi tumhein nahi bacha paunga."

He leaned in a fraction closer, his breath warm against her cheek, the proximity breathless.

"Hum tumhein mohra nahi banayenge, lekin tum humari iklauti gawah ho. Tum hi humara iklauta rasta ho is casteist circle tak pahunchne ka. Par sabse pehle... yahan se bina kisi ki nazar mein aaye niklo."

Y/N looked up at Siddhant’s calm, bespectacled face, her breathing still uneven from the raw, slow friction of their interaction. She nodded once, backed away from his touch, and slipped out the window into the rainy night.

---------------------------------------------------

The wooden frame clicked shut, leaving the two officers alone in the quiet room. The heavy downpour outside finally broke, hitting the roof in steady, rhythmic sheets.

Pratap walked over to the desk, leaning his hands on the wooden edge, his expression deadpan but sharp. He looked at Siddhant, who was still standing near the wall where he had held her, staring out into the dark.

"Siddharth... kya is ladki par bharosa karna sahi hai?" Pratap asked, his voice low and serious, dropping the casual banter completely.

"Is gao mein sab jhoot bolte hain. Aur yeh toh unhi ke parivaron se hai jinpar humein shak hai."

Siddhant didn't answer immediately.

He walked back to his chair, smoothly sliding his hands into his pockets. He adjusted his glasses, looking at the shut laptop, his demeanor completely calm and thoughtful. When he looked up at Pratap, his eyes were steady behind his clear lenses.

"I just... have a feeling she's telling the truth," Siddhant replied softly, his voice relaxed but unyielding.

"Uski aankhon mein darr nahi thha, Pratap. Aur jhoot bolne wale kanoon ki itni samajh nahi rakhte."

Pratap stared at him for a long moment, catching the intense, quiet anchor his partner had already placed on the girl's word.

"Theek hai. Toh phir kal subah pehla kaam... precinct chalte hain."

-------------------------------------------------

The brutal morning sun beat down ruthlessly on the Jhanjhar police precinct, baking the concrete courtyard into a sweltering, white-hot kiln. Inside the station, the air had tgr heavy, stagnant smell of cheap tobacco and desi daaru.

Siddhant sat behind a rusted metal table in a cramped interrogation room, his posture completely relaxed but alert. He wore a light coloured formal shirt, looking entirely unbothered by the stifling heat. Across from him sat Roshni.

She had been called into the station under the rigid pretext of a standard missing persons inquiry. Roshni sat with her hands tightly knotted in her lap, her head bowed, her shoulders trembling subtly under the invisible weight of her family’s terrifying authority.

Pratap stood guard near the doorframe, keeping his eyes on the corridor, while DSP Ajatshatru Singh’s heavy shadow hovered intentionally behind the frosted glass window, monitoring every breath taken inside the room.

Siddhant adjusted his glasses, his voice smooth and quiet as he broke the silence.

" Roshni, main tumse aakhri baar tumse se pooch raha hoon," Siddhant said, his tone entirely soft-spoken but carrying an undeniable federal weight.

"Dussehra ki raat ko tumne Delhi se aaye un teen medical students ko gao mein dekha thha? Kya unho ne tumse baat karne ki koshish ki thhi?"

Roshni flinched, her eyes darting instinctively toward the frosted glass where the DSP’s silhouette stood.

She swallowed the raw terror in her throat, repeating the mechanical script her family had hammered into her out of pure fear.

"Nahi, Sir. Main unhe nahi jaanti. Maine kisi ko nahi dekha. Woh log gao aaye hi nahi thhe."

Siddhant didn't break eye contact. He leaned forward slightly, the white light reflecting off his lenses, drilling directly into her psychological defense.

"Tum jhoot bol rahi ho," Siddhant whispered calmly, his voice a chilling contrast to the blazing heat in the station.

"Tum darr rahi ho, Roshni. Par yaad rakhna, kanoon ek na ek din sach nikal hi leta hai."

Roshni’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but she closed her mouth tightly, completely paralyzed by fear. Sensing that she was entirely compromised and wouldn't say a single word, Siddhant gave a slow, calculated nod. He motioned to the constable at the door.

"Ise ghar bhej do."

As Roshni was escorted out, DSP Ajatshatru Singh stepped into the room with a loud, arrogant smirk, adjusting his uniform belt.

"Dekha, Chaturvedi saab? Bola thha na humne, gao ki bachi hai, darr gayi aapki dilli wali kanoon se. Yahan koi laapata nahi hua hai."

Siddhant didn't yell. He stood up, neatly sliding his notepad into his pocket, and locked his piercing, deadpan gaze onto the corrupt police chief.

A faint, deeply mocking smile touched Siddhant's lips. "Aapki logs bohot saaf hain, SP saab. Itni saaf... ki unme sach dikhna hi band ho gaya hai."

Knowing Roshni was too terrified to speak, Siddhant needed a strategic move. He decided to call Y/N to the police station immediately.

Outwardly, it was just an official excuse to "get her statement" since she was a high-profile resident recently returned from Delhi. In reality, it was a calculated excuse just to talk to her, see her, and challenge her on what she knew

An hour later, Y/N walked into the same cramped interrogation room.

Siddhant sat behind the metal table, methodically arranging a stack of blank official papers. He looked up as she entered. The moment their eyes met, a slow, heavy wave of silent physical tension returned to the room, a vivid reminder of how close they had been pinned against the brick wall the night before.

Pratap leaned back against the doorframe, a dead cigeratte balanced between his lips, watching the corridor. Outside the frosted glass window, DSP Ajatshatru Singh lingered, keeping a strict, watchful eye on them.

Siddhant adjusted his glasses, his voice cutting through the humid silence in a smooth, quiet, yet deadpan cadence, pitched just loud enough for anyone listening outside the door.

"Aapka poora naam, aur Delhi se Jhanjhar aane ki sahi tareekh, Miss Y/L/N?" Siddhant asked, his voice carrying the perfect mask of interrogation routine. He slid a blank paper toward her, tapping his pen against the wooden surface.

Y/N leaned forward, matching his calm, unflappable energy perfectly. Her posture was sophisticated and entirely steady.

"Mera naam Y/L/N hai. Main pichle hafte hi Delhi se lauti hoon. I work as a Prosecutor at the Supreme Court."

Siddhant’s jaw subtly clenched at her revelations, a faint, unreadable glint passing behind his lenses. He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers across the small metal table.

Their eyes locked, and the official protocol vanished from his mind. Siddhant dipped his head slightly, his voice dropping into a low, barely audible whisper that only she could hear over the clicking of the room's table fan. He let his professional skepticism bleed through his words.

"Yeh jo tumhari dost hai, Roshni... woh mujhe ek lafz nahi bata rahi," Siddhant murmured, his eyes narrowing coldly behind his lenses.

"Uska yeh darr, makes me question your little story."

Y/N leaned in closer, pretending to point at a blank line on the paper as if correcting a statement directive. Her eyes locked fiercely onto his, completely unfazed by his doubt.

"Roshni darr ke maare nahi bolegi, Officer..." Y/N whispered back rapidly, her breath hitting his chest.

"Lekin mere paas ek rasta hai. Mujhe lagta hai mere papa ke study room mein khufiya financial logs aur receipts hain, jo yeh sabit kar sakte hain ki DSP Ajatshatru gao ke bade logon se rishwat leta hai, jaise Roshni ke parivar aur mere khud ke parivar se. All those bribes are documented to keep things hidden."

Siddhant’s fingers drummed methodically against his pen, his analytical mind instantly calculating the massive tactical value of those financial logs. It was the paper trail he desperately needed to proceed his investigation. He glanced toward the shadow on the frosted glass, then back to her lips, tracking her shallow breathing.

"Agar woh logs tumhare ghar mein hain, toh tumhara unhe wahan se baahar lana bohot zyada risky hoga," Siddhant whispered, his low voice carrying a heavy, protective edge.

"Ghar ke andar har waqt guards hote hain kya? Is there a way for me to enter your house?"

Y/N paused, thinking quickly.

"Main gate ya seedhe darwaze se toh bilkul possible nahi hoga, wahan hamesha guards hote hai, Par ek rasta hai...Aaj raat parivar ke log ek zamindari dinner ke liye baahar jaa rahe hain. Tum backyard se aa sakte ho and mai, mere kamre ke khidki se tumhein andar le lungi..."

She leaned in just a fraction closer, her eyes turning deadly serious. "Lekin hamein garden ke guards se bohot zyaada careful rehna hoga. Agar unhone kisi ko bageeche mein dekh liya, toh woh seedhe goli maar denge."

Siddhant looked straight into her eyes, his mind weighing her stubborn focus against the absolute danger of a midnight infiltration.

The physical tension between them grew suffocatingly thick. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Theek hai. Aaj raat, exact barah baje, I'll be there."

Siddhant stood up smoothly, adjusting his glasses, pulling his professional mask back over his face. He raised his voice back to its official, soft-spoken tone for the benefit of the listening DSP.

"Theek hai, Miss Y/L/N. Aapka statement record ho gaya hai. Aap ab jaa sakti hain. Aur yaad rakhiyega, agar is case se judi koi aur baaki baatein yaad aayein, toh kanoon ko batana aapka farz hai."

Y/N stood up, smoothing her kurti, her eyes holding his one last time.

"Zaroor, Officer. Sahi waqt aane par sab samne aa jayega."

Pratap opened the interrogation room door, giving Y/N a knowing, quiet nod as she stepped out into the corridor under the heavy, suspicious gaze of the DSP.

As the door clicked shut, Pratap walked over to the metal table, leaning his hip against it. He looked at Siddhant, who was staring fixedly at the blank paper where Y/N’s fingers had just been. Pratap let out a low, cynical chuckle, shaking his head.

"Statement toh bohot lamba khich gaya, Siddhant," Pratap teased dryly, a sharp, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he crossed his arms.

Siddhant didn't answer immediately. He calmly closed his leather file folder, his expression completely relaxed, carrying a look of detached but absolute certainty.

He adjusted his glasses, completely unbothered by the jab, and looked up at his partner."Aisa kuch nahi hai, Pratap. Woh sirf hamari gawah hai," Siddhant replied softly, his voice low and unyielding, though his fingers lingered on the edge of the desk for a split second.

"Mera dhyan sirf case par hai. Aur uski hifazat karna hamari zimmedari hai, bas."

Pratap let out another low, cynical chuckle, shaking his head as he turned toward the door. "Haan, haan, zimmedari. Hum bhi dekhte hain yeh kanoon wali zimmedari tumhein kahan tak le jaati hai, Chaturvedi."

----------------------------------------------------------

Comment to be added or removed-

@qalamband @work-of-procrastination @euphorkive @rosesandpeoniesthings @tojisloft @y0uneversawmehere @ishq-e-rehman @iamadelusionalwriter @peonies7002 @poniepinkie @ppinkitten @akshayekhannamerehai @ashnotashkechum @shadylovedhurandhar @draculauras-stuff @sanpiece @goodnightkatherine @jacqueline-17 @kisswithknife @kamalkafool @kriti-ki-dulhania @layinglowkey @ch3rrycok3s @carbonaramarinara @vakalatnelagadiye @nevereversaygoodbye @maidenofmelancholy @mrgrungusthefrog @leftmakerpaperpie @flwryyysh @mims1708

Siddhant Chaturvedi x reader

(from Aakrosh)

A/N: this whole 'Lolita' is part of my Summer Bummer series which will consist oneshots of ak, Rehman Baloch urf Rehman Dakait, nd maybe sm other characters too(no spoilers). They'll not be related or will have coinciding stories with eachother, but will follow the theme line of age-gap, cottagecore, dilf yada yada. I MISSZZZZ YSLLL , I'll not be active much but my this Lolita series man i love it so freaking much, i so wanna write like back then but these days even i myself feel im not able to justice my thoughts and ideas well enough, thats actually the that one big reason i don't feel like writin. But actually ive ts 2-3 ones to ts series, nd idk how it'll turn out but stay tuned I'll write on to those ideas aaaahhhh LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEE YALL ALOT<3 and ts is the 2nd one.

Disclaimer: This fictional narrative is intended for mature audiences only. It explores themes of significant age-gap dynamics, power imbalances, and graphic sexual content that may not be suitable for all readers. (Drug use)

w/c: 1.9k

ep: 09

"Saturn"

࣪ ִֶָ†.

Siddhant Chaturvedi sat on the edge of the plush, king-sized bed, the muscles in his jaw ticking with a rhythmic, violent intensity.

He hadn't fully stepped out of his demeanor of the CBI officer; the ghost of his last briefing still haunted his eyes—eyes that were dark, restless, and filled with a simmering rage he couldn't quite extinguish.

He's in a crisp black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal forearms corded with tension, and tailored trousers that felt like a cage.

He had just finished a secure online meeting that had bled into their "vacation," his voice a low, terrifying bark as he’d ordered his team back in India to tear the case apart.

Beside him, looking like a delicate, exotic flower caught in the center of a storm, sat his girl. She was in her early twenties, a soft contrast to his jagged edges, dressed in a tiny, ethereal babydoll nightgown that barely brushed her thighs.

The room was bathed in the surreal, hazy glow of a single neon pink lamp—a soft, electric hue that turned the shadows into velvet.

Siddhant leaned to the chevet's drawer, and pulled out a small glass vial. With a steady hand, he tapped two white pills—'Lemmon'—onto his palm.

It was a high-grade, euphoric sedative, the only thing that could bridge the gap between his world of blood and hers of dreams. (refer to Lemmon 714 Quaaludes, a potent brand of methaqualone, a sedative-hypnotic drug. Famous for the 1980s-set film's intense "ludes" scene, they caused extreme impairment, paralysis, and euphoria.)

He didn't say a word. My man didn't have to. The dominance he carries wasn't just in his badge; it was in the way he occupied space.

He turned his hand toward yn, the two small pills sitting on his palm like drops of sun.

His gaze was heavy, searching her face, a silent invitation to leave the world behind.

She looked at the pills, then up at him, her fingers reaching out to brush against his warm palm. She took one, her eyes never leaving his, and he took the other.

The transition was slow at first. The stress of the world—the warrants, the corruption, the noise of the meeting—began to fray at the edges.

Siddhant felt the tightness in his chest begin to unravel.

The rage didn't disappear; it simply changed state, turning from a sharp blade into a warm, humming energy.

"Lie down," he commanded, his voice losing its jagged authority and becoming a deep, resonant vibration that felt like it was coming from the floorboards.

They sank back into the bed, the silk sheets feeling impossibly cool against their skin.

As the drug took hold, the neon pink light seemed to expand, filling the room with a vibrating, rhythmic pulse.

The city outside the window wasn't a map of targets anymore; it was a distant, sparkling sea of possibilities.

Siddhant turned on his side, his large frame looming over her. The euphoria hit him in a golden wave, making every sense hyper-alert.

He could hear the faint, melodic beat of her heart; he could smell the ruby red poison dior on her skin mixed with the sharp, clean scent of his own cologne.

He reached out, his hand sliding over her waist, pulling her closer until the delicate fabric of her gown was pressed against his black shirt.

He wasn't the officer now; he was just a man, finally finding silence.

"You're the only thing that’s real," he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming affection that only the 'These pills' could unlock.

"Only you... everything else is just noise"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glassy, caught in the same neon-pink dream.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, marveling at how the tension had finally left his face.

They lay there in a tangled, euphoric heap, the minutes stretching into hours.

The city of Vienna watched them from behind the glass, but inside the pink glow of the room, he held her with a fierce, protective grip, his eyes closing as the drug pulled them both into a deep, velvet abyss where the law didn't exist, and only the rhythm of their breathing mattered.

yn leaned in, her breath hot and smelling of vanilla against his ear, and whispered those five words,

"Fuck me like I'm famous"......the last thread of his restraint snapped.

The effect was instantaneous and a provoke at this moment. His pupils dilated until his eyes were two bottomless pits of dark ink, reflecting the pink glow and a raw, primal hunger.

The drug had stripped away the CBI officer's logic, leaving behind only the man’s dominance and a surge of euphoric adrenaline.

With a low, guttural growl that started deep in his chest, Siddhant moved. He rolled onto his forearms, his large, powerful frame caging her against the silk sheets.

He didn't just lean over her; he occupied her entire field of vision, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world.

The muscles in his arms bunched and corded beneath the black fabric of his shirt, the tension returning not as stress, but as a focused, predatory power.

"Famous?" he repeated, his voice dropping into a gravelly, dangerous rasp.

He leaned down until his nose brushed against hers, his gaze tracing the smudged kohl around her eyes.

"Is sheher mein, is kamre mein... tumse zyada haseen aur koi nahi hai. And my passion for you... it’s on the verge of becoming infamous right now my sweet yn." (In this city, in this room... there is no one more beautiful than you.)

"You want me to treat you like the world is watching?" he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he nipped the lobe.

"I’m going to treat you like you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to own. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, jaan."

He didn't reach for the hem of her gown. His hands, fueled by a rush of adrenaline and chemical lust, gripped the flimsy straps of her babydoll dress and ripped it down the center.

The sound of tearing silk was loud in the quiet suite, a sharp punctuation to her hitching gasp.

She didn't shrink back; the drug had her floating on a ninth cloud where fear didn't exist, only sensation.

She arched her back, her arms spreading wide across the pillows in a gesture of total, euphoric surrender.

He moved like a man possessed, his fingers working the buttons of his shirt with a clumsy, desperate speed until he tore it open, baring his chest to the cool air and the neon glow.

He threw the shirt aside and descended upon her.

His mouth found hers in a kiss that wasn't a request—it was a conquest.

He savored her with a bruising intensity, tasting the drug on her tongue and the raw desire in her moans.

He moved down to her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he began to leave deep, dark love bites—his signature, marking her as his in the light of Vienna.

He moved from the curve of her throat to her blossoms, before his mouth traveled lower, to the soft, flat of her belly.

Under the influence of the drug, he found himself lingering there, his hand splaying over her stomach with a sudden, heavy possessiveness.

In his hazy, euphoric mind, a primal thought flickered: the image of this belly one day swelling with his child, a physical manifestation of his dominance.

She was a moaning mess beneath him, her fingers tangling in his thick hair, pulling him closer, begging for the friction that the sweet pills had made her crave.

Every touch felt magnified, every kiss like a spark on dry tinder.

"Siddhant... please," she whimpered, her voice a broken melody that drove him over the edge.

A raw, dominant urgency, his trousers discarded along with his boxers as he moved back between her legs.

He looked down at her—her hair a dark fan across the silk, her skin flushed and marked by his touch, and her eyes wide with a drug-induced wonder.

He didn't ease into it. Driven by a surge of territorial lust, he gripped her thighs and drove himself into her in one deep, unyielding thrust.

A sharp, high-pitched cry escaped her lips, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back as she struggled to take the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him.

Siddhant didn't move for a moment; he hovered over her, his veins corded with tension, his chest heaving as he watched the pleasure and shock play across her face.

"Dekho mujhe baby," he commanded, his voice a guttural, ground-level rasp. (Look at me.)

When her eyes met his, he began to move. It wasn't the rhythmic pace of a lover; it was the relentless, driving force of a man who lived his life at a hundred miles an hour.

Every thrust was deep, heavy, and punishingly thorough, sending waves of white-hot electricity through both of them.

The pills... the sensation was magnified a thousand times—every slide of skin against skin felt like a cosmic collision.

She was a frantic, moaning wreck beneath him, her head thrashing from side to side. The room began to spin, the neon light blurring into long, holographic streaks of pink and purple.

She felt like she was no longer on a bed in Vienna, but suspended in a void where only Siddhant’s weight and the friction of his body were real.

"Siddhant... I’m... I'm falling," she gasped, her voice sounding like it was coming from miles away.

"Let yourself fall" he growled, his pace becoming faster, more desperate.

"I am here... to catch you."

He hooked her legs over his broad shoulders, opening her up completely, and began to fuck her with a primal, focused intensity that was almost violent.

He was marking her soul as much as her body, his thrusts hitting the very center her cervix of her being.

The pleasure was so sharp it felt like pain, a beautiful, agonizing euphoria that made their breaths hitch in unison.

Their moans became a single, rhythmic sound that filled the room, drowning out the distant hum of the city.

He felt the familiar, tightening pressure in his gut, the drug pushing the climax to a level of intensity he hadn't known was possible.

She reached her limit first. Her body stiffened, her eyes rolling back as she let out a long, shattered scream, her internal muscles clenching around him in a desperate rhythm.

The sensation sent Siddhant over the edge. With a final, powerful surge, he drove deep into her, his own voice breaking into a raw moan as he cummed in her.

The world didn't just spin; it shattered. For several long seconds, they were both untethered, floating in a silent, neon-lit dimension where time had stopped.

They were just two souls, raw and exposed, bound together by the drug and the absolute surrender of the night.

Slowly, the gravity of the room returned. Siddhant collapsed onto her, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against hers, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm.

He buried his face in her hair, his arms wrapping around her with a fierce, protective grip.

In the silence of the Vienna night, under the dying glow of the night lamp, the CBI officer had finally found his escape, and the girl who had given it to him was the only thing left in his world.

࣪ ִֶָ†.

inspo:

Like not just rehman dakait (i mean if y'all want too you can I'm not telling y'all to stop making fics on that specific characters, Everyone has their own choices, I'm just saying)

Like there are many more hot characters like Siddhant chaturvedi from Aakrosh😛

Sanjaya baru from The Accidental prime minister!

Inspector karan in 36 china town!

Dev verma from Ittefaq!

Tarun Ahlawat from Drishyam 2

Tarun Saluja from Section 375.

Baba bhandari in Sab Kushal Mangal 🙏😭

Mathew francis from Mom😛

Like I always get distracted whenever this man comes in the screen even for just a lil bit😭🙏

Apparently, my blog just turned 1 people. And imma celebrate with cake 😋🤭

@qalamband @work-of-procrastination @euphorkive @rosesandpeoniesthings @tojisloft @y0uneversawmehere @ishq-e-rehman @iamadelusionalwriter @peonies7002 @poniepinkie @ppinkitten @akshayekhannamerehai @ashnotashkechum @shadylovedhurandhar @draculauras-stuff @sanpiece @goodnightkatherine @jacqueline-17 @kisswithknife @kamalkafool @kriti-ki-dulhania @layinglowkey @ch3rrycok3s @carbonaramarinara @vakalatnelagadiye @nevereversaygoodbye @maidenofmelancholy @mrgrungusthefrog @leftmakerpaperpie @flwryyysh @mims1708