The room is dimly lit, the curtains swaying slightly as a breeze slips in through the cracked window. The scent of rain lingers in the air, and you can hear the faint sound of droplets tapping against the glass. You’re sitting on the bed, straddling Axel—your enemy.

He’s sprawled out on his stomach, shirtless, glaring at the pillow like it’s the cause of his misery. His tattooed back is now your canvas, thanks to a bet he smugly thought he’d win.

“Hold still,” you say with a playful grin, peeling the backing off another sticker tattoo.

Axel groans, turning his head to the side, his jaw tight with frustration. “That’s cold,” he grumbles for the tenth time, his deep voice dripping with annoyance.

You laugh softly, spraying a bit of water onto the new tattoo before pressing it onto his skin. “Want me to stop?” you tease, leaning forward so he can see the triumphant smirk on your face.

He glances up at you with those sharp blue eyes, his expression a mix of irritation and disbelief. “No,” he snaps, his tone clipped, but his arm betrays him as it moves beneath him to grab your leg, as though to ground himself against the humiliation.

“Then don’t complain,” you counter sweetly, your voice dripping with fake sympathy as you reach for another design.

He mutters something under his breath, probably a curse aimed at you, but the smirk he tries to suppress betrays his composure. “Yes ma'am,” he mutters.