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omg-imagine · 4 years

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⊱ Drabble #3 ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Prompts:

51- “I missed you so much.”

53- “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Words: 1.6k

Warning: fluff, smut

A/N: Not really a drabble lol. I also went full on with the smut here. Hope you like it!

Requested by @eevee-of-rivia ♡

The house sat still, cold and empty, the late-night chorus of crickets sounding from an open window, its irritating tune echoing in the hushed atmosphere. For what seemed like hours, you tossed and turned under the warm silken sheets, incredibly restless and deeply yearning for precious sleep to come soon.

Sighing, you flipped over to lay on the left side— Keanu’s side— of the bed. It was dull, uneventful evenings such as this which made you miss your husband a bit more than usual. Undoubtedly, if he were home right now, the night would have been more pleasant. You always slept so soundly with Keanu, feeling loved and secure with him curled up behind you, holding you close.

As expected, your mind continued drifting off to thoughts of him, silently wondering what he was up to at this hour. Though Keanu had sent you a few texts here and there, today had been the first time he couldn’t call you from where he was on the other side of the world, his packed shooting schedule this week taking up most of his energy and focus.

You couldn’t blame Keanu, of course. Even though there had been many, many times when you wished you and him weren’t separated by thousands of miles, the long absences were sadly part of his job. Over the years, you had learned to accept it, but that didn’t stop you from feeling so lonesome throughout the day, wanting nothing more than to see him and hear his voice.

Finally, fatigue took over, and you eventually succumbed to sleep with the slight hope of seeing Keanu in your dreams, just like every night. For tonight, your consciousness conjured up a familiar scenario; a vivid memory, to be exact. It brought you back to the day almost six years ago when you and Keanu exchanged vows on a sandy beach near the bright, blue Pacific waters; in a ceremony that was intimate and perfect, filled with so much joy and love.

As your dream-self stood there holding Keanu’s hands, anticipating your first kiss as husband and wife, the scene around you began to melt away, your physical body rousing from its deep slumber and emerging into the real world.

Carefully, your eyes fluttered open, your brain still thick with sleep as you observed your dark surroundings. That’s when you heard it—the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking as if someone were walking out in the hall.

Sitting up on the mattress, you let out a scream when the door suddenly cracked open, and a shadowed man came into the room. Then you heard him say your name, and it took you less than a second to figure out who it truly was.

“Keanu?” You uttered as you reached over to turn on the light, your racing heart soon relaxing.

At first, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You wondered if you were still asleep; if this was merely part of your dream. But when Keanu approached the edge of the bed, his kind cocoa-hued orbs gazing down at you, you were then convinced that this was actually happening.

This was all real.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare—”

You didn’t allow Keanu to finish his sentence. Without warning, you jumped out of the covers and quickly scrambled towards him, pushing yourself up on your knees to kiss him. Capturing his neck in your arms, his lips were soft and sweet as they tenderly, perfectly molded to yours. Running out of air, you pulled away from him but not too far, letting your fingers weave through the ends of his raven locks.

“I missed you,” you spoke, your voice light and airy as the corners of your mouth lifted to form a smile. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Keanu beamed, placing his lips on yours once more. “I hope you don’t mind me coming home unannounced. I just thought it would be a lovely surprise if I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s a lovely surprise, indeed. Even though you gave me a fright back there, I’m happy that you’re here.”

With a bright grin, Keanu wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you in close as you sank into his warm embrace. Closing your eyes, you could feel him nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, trailing the gentlest of kisses along the side. You hummed in delight while his mouth slowly traveled upwards, his lips grazing your ear as he murmured, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Hmm, what about exactly?” you questioned Keanu teasingly as he urged you to lie back in bed, positioning himself to hover above you.

“Well, for starters, I thought of doing this…”

A shiver ran down your spine as the large palm of his hand caressed your body, gliding smoothly over your thin, silky nightgown before pushing the garment up and off. Lustful gaze unwavering, Keanu’s fingertips ran alongside the skin of your inner thigh, inching them closer to your heated core. You inhaled sharply when you felt him massaging your sensitive nub through your panties, a smirk flashing across his face knowing that his simple touch could quickly reduce you to a needy mess.

“I imagined this moment during the entire flight, and it made me so hard just thinking about it.”

His words were somewhat of a loss when he swiftly rid you of your underwear and moved down your body, pressing his face towards your warmth. Hot breaths of air softly fanning over your cunt, you couldn’t hold back the moans escaping you as Keanu’s wet tongue delved into your aching pussy, two of his thick digits stroking, teasing your inner walls.

“I missed the way you taste,” Keanu cooed as you writhed helplessly against his strong hold, teetering dangerously on the precipice of climax. “I missed how tight you are around my fingers, my cock. God, I can’t wait to feel you around me.”

“P-Please,” you whimpered, lifting your head to meet his eyes which were filled with urgent desperation to touch, to feel. It had been too long since he’d given you this much pleasure; the late-night, steamy phone calls were incomparable to the real deal. “I want you inside me, baby. I can’t wait anymore, please.”

In an instant, Keanu pushed backwards, removing his fingers from your pussy, and you whined at the loss. You felt like you were half-delirious, your mind utterly stuck in a pleasure-drunk haze. Watching as your husband stripped off his clothes, your heart began to soar seeing his bare body. Your eyes shamelessly roamed over his entirety, sighing softly at the sight of the beautiful man before you.

Finally, Keanu removed his boxer shorts, the last barrier separating you from all his glory, and you couldn’t help but admire his gorgeous cock, hardened and glistening because of you, just for you.

Wordlessly, he crawled back up to you, his body settling between your legs as your lips met in pure haste, kissing each other fiercely, almost frantically. Releasing a gasp, you felt Keanu’s member pressed against your entrance, its swollen rosy tip slicked with your juices. Breaths mingling together in short pants, you moaned at the delicious burning sensation of him pushing inside in one slow, measured thrust. He paused for a beat, allowing you to get used to his size, only proceeding once you gave him a nod.

“I missed this,” Keanu husked, his hips moving at a tantalizing pace. “I missed you.”

Bodies moving as one, the bed under you creaked with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the moans falling from your lips. Keanu’s girthy length stretched you out exquisitely. Each timed stroke became harder, rougher, and deeper, the growing coil of tension within you now starting to fall apart, and you looked up at him, knowing full well that he too was close.

“I love you,” he whispered in between staccato breaths, his movements becoming more erratic, his self-control slipping.

You gazed into Keanu’s dark, heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly agape as a bead of sweat dripped from his quivering brow. Reaching a hand down, you hissed in pleasure when Keanu rubbed at your clit, dragging your nails over his back as he continuously hit that sweet, sweet spot deep inside you.

Within seconds, you began to tremble underneath him, spasming and tightening around his cock as you wailed softly, riding out your high. Grunting out your name, Keanu buried his face in your neck, giving a few final stuttering thrusts before finding his own release, pumping spurt after spurt of his thick creamy cum inside, a sated smile gracing both of your lips.

A minute passed, and so did several more. Soon, your ragged breaths steadied, your heaving chests returning to a calmed state. With a loving kiss, Keanu slowly slipped himself out, his tired body collapsing next to yours as you shifted to lie on your side, facing him. Staring adoringly at his gentle features, you felt your eyes beginning to drift close, though you tried to fight the sleep creeping in.

“It’s okay,” Keanu soothed when he noticed your drowsiness. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here next to you when you wake up.”

“Promise?” You asked in a muted tone, watching as he threw the duvet over to cover your bareness before turning off the lamp, darkness instantly enveloping the room.

Planting one last gentle kiss to your forehead, Keanu then snuggled closer, and you basked in the warmth surrounding you. “I promise.”

Content with his answer, you finally let the exhaustion take over, both your heart and mind now at ease knowing you would be peacefully asleep all night, held by the arms of the one you love the most, Keanu.

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @lussdew

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic

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hardsr · 3 years

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blooming

seulgi leaves home.

1/2 of my seulgi birthday project fics.

[tags]: seulrene, hurt and comfort, slightangst, fluff, romance, bittersweet.

irene knew she wasn’t supposed to feel like this, but there was a burning sensation in her stomach. she was sitting in her bed, biggest bedroom of the dorm but she was still yearning for something, something or someone that was missing.

the three other members were here with her: wendy, joy and yeri. all in their own respective bedrooms doing their own business, but regardless of what they were doing, there was still a hole in heart.

she slowly got dressed into a hoodie and sweats, knowing the place she was going had the most comforting aura to it. once she stepped out into the night, she realized there was a small drizzle and the chilly air brought her to shiver. while the place she hoped to get to was quite close, she still flagged down a taxi for her own health, not wanting to catch a cold and spread it to her members.

it was a silent night, the drizzle gently tapping on the windows of the sleek car. when she arrived, she paid the man off and hurried into the tall luxurious building. the front desk man had seen her already so many times he did not glance twice at her when he saw her, despite her not living in the occupancy of the building.

walking into the elevator with her slightly damp hair and hoodie, she pressed the floor number and let her ears go numb as the machine ascended and stopped with a ding!

she hopped out and fled to the very familiar door, a delicious scent wafting from underneath it. she bit her lip and paused as she was about to knock on the door.

maybe it’s a bad time?

but she remembered the words from her last visit and let out a breath. a few very soft knocks on the carved door rang out with her fist. she stood there huddled in her own arms, gently shivering from the cold she had endured minutes ago but she knew it was going to be okay soon.

half a minute had passed and irene thought maybe this was a bad time. but just as she was about to turn and take her leave, the door heaved open and that beautiful husky voice of hers rang out.

“unnie?”

irene turned to the owner and smiled gently,

“hi seul.”

seulgi moved away from the entrance to her new home and let the shivering girl in.

“unnie, what are you doing here? you’re shivering...” seulgi mumbled as she placed the tiny girl onto her beautiful white couch, took off her wet clothing and covered her with a weighted blanket.

irene shrugged at the question, almost shy underneath her member’s gaze.

seulgi stood, watching irene with gentle eyes. the fireplace was gently crackling and the living room and kitchen was glowing a gentle yellowish orange, seulgi’s designated colour, irene thought.

there was a familiar scent in the air, boiling noodles of ramen and a delicious sauce bubbling.

irene didn’t know why she came here or what she was doing, but once she saw seulgi sit down beside her and pull her into her side, the gaping hole in her heart had filled itself.

“i missed you.” irene mumbled into seulgi’s chest, the strong comforting arms of seulgi pulling her into her lap for better security.

“i missed you too.”

irene slowly nodded, head tucked under seulgi’s chin and finger gently drawing random doodles on her defined abdomen that was covered by a black shirt. the strong muscles and lean ridges of her abs made her bite her lip.

“why did you move out?” irene questioned with a crack in her voice.

“you ask me that every time.”

“i know.” irene lowered her head however was intercepted by two of seulgi’s fingers on her chin raising it back up.

“i know it’s a change you don’t like. but it’s not permanent. i just don’t want the staff to argue with you about everything that has happened between us.”

“i know.” irene mumbled again, fingers now playing with the waistband of seulgi’s boxers that lined over the v line of her lower body.

feeling seulgi shift under her, irene brought her head back and locked eyes with the monolids. those eyes she had seen almost every single day for the last 12 years. what were once curious and nervous were now mature and confident. the once scrawny little body that went rigged when she touched it had bloomed into a muscular and fit physique that could hold her protectively. the voice that couldn’t even say out a single syllable or call out “unnie” had deepened with husk and passion. but if there’s one thing that didn’t change, it was seulgi herself and their relationship.

little seulgi who took care of her, who made sure she was doing well and nothing was bothering her. seulgi who had let her crawl into her tiny bed and cuddle with her during thunderstorms years upon years ago. seulgi who was always behind her, making sure she didn’t fall.

and irene who had always took care of seulgi. who had cooked her meals and cleaned her clothes. irene who would listen to all of seulgi’s problems and would answer them with everything she knew. irene who kept her emotions inside and let everything out when she was alone so she didn’t worry seulgi.

it was a beautiful relationship that had lasted 12 years and would last until their last breaths.

irene was so lost in seulgi, she only came back to the real world when she felt a thumb swiping on her cheek.

“unnie? you spaced out a little.” seulgi’s deep voice rumbled in her ear.

irene looked up at the younger and with careful accordance, leaned in and kissed her on the lips. an action she had done thousands upon thousands of times before.

seulgi’s hands laid on irene’s hips and irene’s arms wrapped and tightened around seulgi’s neck, shifting her body to straddle the taller.

“seul, can you please promise me something?” irene said breathlessly against seulgi’s swollen lips.

“what is it?”

“please promise me you’ll never change.” irene stared into those beautiful honey eyes.

she heard a gentle hum.

“of course joohyun.” seulgi mumbled and dove back into irene’s lips.

nothing had changed between them. they had grown up together and watched each other bloom underneath each other’s eyes, both sprouting into beautiful, confident and successful women, but as days passed they knew nothing would change.

because irene is irene and seulgi is seulgi.

#seulrene #hurt and comfort #slightangst #angst #fluff #romance #bittersweet #red velvet #irene #seulgi #coming of age #happy birthday seulgi

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

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maybe unrequited!peter jerking off in tony's lab while he isn't there. esp knowing tony has cameras, security etc (ty if ur up for it!)

Okay, so I had to message you to figure out the unrequited bit, but: Here we go! I hope that you like it and that I did it justice! Thank you so much ❤️ This is literally shameless voyeurism and smut. I have literally no excuse except for the fact it was requested.

TW/Tags: (Not) unrequited love | voyeurism | Under-negotiated sexual content

People liked to joke about Tony Stark’s lack of impulse control; about his knack for bad decisions or spur-of-the-moment acts. It was funny. It was a thing. Tony could show up one day with a gold-coated camel or something and people would just roll their eyes and go ‘there he goes again’.

Peter? Peter was a kid. Easily excusable. He tried his best to think things through and to be the responsible adult he was trying to convince everyone else he was. And he felt he did a good job. Sure, here and there he might have fucked up a little or jumped into action when he ought to have stepped back and thought a little more.

But if anything, people put those moments down to one of two things: ‘Oh, he’s just a kid. They do that.’‘Too much time around Tony, that’s what that is. Taking after his mentor.’

Tony could not, at all, be blamed for this. Nor, really, could the fact that he was younger. Not when ‘this’ was being splayed on Tony’s main workbench, head thrown back, legs apart like a whore, one hand shoved down into his boxers. Really, it couldn’t be blamed on anything except Peter and Peter’s desperate love and need for Tony.

“F-Fuck. Bad idea. This is a bad idea,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut as he ran his thumb slowly over the slit of his cock, thighs trembling. The pleasure was a low, slow burn in his gut. He hadn’t been touching himself long. Hadn’t meant to be touching himself at all.

It was the videos that had done it, and the suits. God, the suits. Tall and imposing, lending Tony bulk and strength enough to compete with Peter’s abilities. And that was not to disregard the formal Tom Ford’s and the Gucci two-pieces. The sharp lines and soft fabric that made Tony equally as imposing as the metal.

“J-JARVIS. How long until Tony returns?” Peter whimpered, curling onto his side like he was wounded as his cock jerked in his grip, dribbling a glob of cum into the silk fabric of his boxers. Boxers that Tony had bought him not even a month ago, as part of a sleek suit for the 2019 World Trust Fund Gala.

“Based upon my estimate, you have roughly two hours and thirteen minutes before Sir is likely to return.” JARVIS sounded prim, indifferent to the fact that Peter was touching himself. It made Peter glad for the fact that JARVIS was code, and not a real Butler. It would have been significantly more awkward to ask such a thing in his current state.

He gave a jerky nod, rolling over onto his back and letting his hips rut up against his hand and forearm with a shaky groan. The scent of Tony’s aftershave was still lingering, mingled with oil and metal. The husk of his words as he told Peter he’d back soon, to stay as long as he liked. The squeeze of Tony’s hand on his hip.

Peter knew it was just Tony. Knew that intimately taking a person apart and flirting and using body language was just coded into him at this point. That the brushed of his knuckles between Peter’s shoulders didn’t meant the same as when he did it to the attractive news caster at whatever world-saving event had happened then.

“I should stop,” he mewled into his arm, slowing the rocky movements of his hips for all of four seconds. He should. He ought to. This was wrong. Jerking off over a man who saw him as a son. In his own workshop.

“Fuck.”

It was a statement he repeated when he let his arm fall away, and found that he was staring straight up into one of the cameras that littered the space, designed to capture Tony’s movements and experiments and breakthroughs. The lens shifted minutely within the frame, focusing. Peter knew it was automated, but he still gasped, spine arching as pleasure stabbed between his thighs.

He was being recorded. On camera, right now, was a digital copy of him, with his hand around his cock and his mentor’s name on his tongue. He lay trembling on the workbench, gaze fixed on the camera, hand still moving in tiny little twitches over his sensitive dick.

Tony wouldn’t see it. Peter could scrub the footage the moment he was done. Tony wasn’t looking at the cameras, he was too busy schmoozing pretty ladies and promoting Stark Industries latest clean energy movement.

But Peter could pretend.

“S-So hard. Mr. Stark. Its so hard. I can’t help myself,” he murmured, feeling both aroused and stupid as he begun to fuck into his fist again, imagining that Tony was actually there. In the penthouse, perhaps. Cradling a neat whiskey, dark gaze on the camera screens. Watching him.

“I - I want you to touch me, Mr. Stark. I need you to touch me. I’m not enough. Need your hands. Your mouth. Your c-cock,” Peter threw his head back on the last word, hips stuttering into his tight grip as his other reached down, shakily pulling part his belt and his jeans to squirm them down around his thighs, flushed skin lay bare for the camera.

For the Tony in his mind.

He lost the ability to speak for a short while, lost in the desperation of his fingers squeezing his pulsing cock, the dripping cum that soaked his hip and pooled on the bench below him. The clouded haze of pleasure. He was getting closer. He felt so dirty, so wrong, and yet…

“Feels so good. Thinking about you. You watching me. Not as good as you being here. But good. M’gonna - Fucking myself to the thought of you, Mr. Stark. Though you should be fucking me. Right now. B-Buried so deep,” he cried into his forearm, whole body ignited with desire, pleasure.

He was so close. He could feel his cock getting even harder, could feel his thighs burning with the effort of not cumming, the hot slide of pleasure through his veins. “G-Gonna cum, Mr. Stark. All over myself. All over your workspace. That’d be naughty of me,” he muttered, gaze locked on the camera, thumb digging into the slit.

He was about to cum. About to fall into the crescendo of pleasure, to submit to the vision of Tony’s hands all over him, his voice low in his ear, his cock balls-deep. He almost snapped himself in half when the Mark L powered up on the opposite wall, eyes igniting a glacial blue, head turning an inch to focus on him.

He scrambled onto his elbows, knees drawing towards his stomach with a yell as the suit took a slow, calculated step off its podium, like it was testing the ability to walk. And then it begun to stride towards him with purpose, thunk-thunk-thunk on the workshop floor. Peter tried to scramble further across the space, but the suit was faster.

It caught him by the ankle, indifferent and emotionless as it dragged him half-naked and still hard down the bench, other hand reaching to find his shoulder. He let out a terrified cry as it flipped him, careful and quick.

On his stomach it dragged him closer, until he slid mostly off the bench, folded over the edge of it and cock trapped painfully between the edge and his hip.

“JARVIS! What the- Help me!” he cried, but the room around him remained silent as the Mark L grasped his wrists tightly and stepped closer, until it pinned him there. In such a position he couldn’t gather himself enough to break free, writhing like an angry snake in its grasp, spitting a variety of terrified pleas and creative curses.

He didn’t even hear the workshop door open. Had fallen limp and exhausted in the suits grip, still half-hard. Knew nothing of his companion until the suit’s fingers flexed, until warm, living ones slid around the space they had held as they withdrew.

Peter jerked in surprise when the cold, hard body was replaced by a warm one, soft fabric against the bare swell of his ass.

“Y’know. Its mighty rude to jerk off in another man’s workshop. Especially without inviting him.”

Tony.

But of course, who else could it be?

Mortified, Peter twisted in the space Tony allowed him, looking wildly up into dark, calculating eyes that softened at the sight of him, grip loosening. “Oh, Peter. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have scared you. I just wanted to stop you from finishing before I could get here.”

Peter’s brain short-circuited, a definitive blank space as he blinked wet eyes at Tony, trembling in his hold, hips tilted away to hide his shame. “Y-You… What?” he rasped, fingers flexing against the edge of the workbench.

What kinda sick punishment was that? Cockblocked as well as whatever horrific intentions Tony had for him?

“All those things you were saying, Peter. Drove me insane. You’re right. Fuck, we shouldn’t. But you’re right,” Tony breathed against his jaw, thumb stroking the inside of his wrist as he ducked down, pressed gentle kisses along Peter’s cheek and jaw, soothing.

“You should stop me. But I really hope that you don’t. I couldn’t - Seeing you like that. Calling out my name while you touch yourself. In my space.”

“You’re not mad?” Peter managed weakly, limp in Tony’s hold, unable to compute anything beyond what was immediately happening. Tony’s lips on his skin, stubble scraping, his voice a rough thrum in Peter’s ear.

“Mad? Sweetheart. Only thing I’m mad about is how guilty I know I’ll feel after this. But… I can’t help myself. I’m a glutton. I’m shameless. At least in the moment. God, kid. I’ll hate myself for this. But I’ll hate myself more if I don’t,” Tony rasped into his ear, fingers stroking along his arms, body inching closer until Tony’s hard cock was insistent against his ass, the scrape of fabric and zipper biting into his cheek.

“Don’t - Don’t hate yourself. Please. Mr. Stark just…Touch me? Please. I need you to touch me.”

Tony obliged with the scrape of teeth against his jugular, hips grinding forwards gently, coaxing Peter into peeling himself from the edge of the table, to allow his poor dick some room to breathe. It ached, both from its entrapment and how dizzyingly hard he was.

“No idea what you looked like, kiddo. When JARVIS said you were calling for me… Thought you’d hurt yourself or something. Damn near activated the suit there and then, sweetheart. When I saw you… What you were doing…”

Tony trailed off, hand making a slow and sure path down his body, fingertips digging into his hip before finally, finally wrapping long fingers around his cock.

Peter jerked in his grip, head tossing back and almost taking Tony out as he shook, biting hard on his lip to stave off the need to cum as Tony squeezed him gently, exploring. The tip of his thumb pressed against the sensitive underside of his tip and he mewled, ground back against Tony’s arched body.

“You were watching me.”

“JARVIS told me you were in a ‘predicament’ and calling out my name. God, Peter. Thought you were in pain. Not pleasure. Staring straight up at the camera. Fuck; did you know? Were you asking?” Tony ground out, rough and debauched against his shoulder.

“N-No. Thought… Was fantasising. Pretending. I didn’t know,” Peter answered honestly, shaky and high. Tony stroked him harder, rougher, hips steady against the backs of Peter’s thighs as they ground together. Tony cooed softly at him, moved a hand to pet at his hair gently, to wipe under his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m going to show you the real thing. It’s so much better.”

#fanfic #starker fic #starker fanfic #starker fanfiction #starker canon #cc #cu #cuc #ironspider #ironspider fic #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider smut #starker smut #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #sie fics

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kaijoskopycat · 7 years

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Part 4 of Model!Yuri and Photographer!Otabek (this part in particular was encouraged by @makariaartsabout) Part 1 || Part 2 || | Part 3 || Part 5 AO3

“You know, when I invited you over it wasn't supposed to be for a photo shoot,” Otabek says as he pulls out a small, commonly used digital camera.

Yuri clicks his tongue and smirks, running the tip of his forefinger across the bunched up waist of Otabek’s sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He doesn't know why Yuri changed into them. Doesn't care. Because damn do they look good on him.

Otabek snaps the first picture and only belatedly notices Yuri’s tongue running across his upper lip in a manner as leisurely and alluring as the finger on his sweatpants.

“Fuck… Yura…” Otabek cards his fingers roughly through his hair in exasperation. Heat spills across his body as Yuri’s next pose is to pull up the front of his shirt, grasping the hem between his teeth. It's animalistic, dirty, sexy.

Otabek’s finger spasms on the shutter-release, takes the picture for him.

“I’m not even close to done, Beka,” Yuri breathes as he releases the fabric of his shirt, only to tug it over his head. Shirtless Yuri Plisetsky is a sight Otabek has seen many times before, but never like this.

Never has Yuri been so provocative. Every other time involved high fashion poses, more statuesque and hard beauty than this bewitching allure.

“Talk to me, Beka.” Yuri demands, sliding a single hand into the top of his pants as he angles his head back an inch. He brushes his fingers across his lower lip and Otabek quickly snaps another photo. “Tell me why you're using a digital camera now. Why the film in the shoots?”

“I--” Otabek doesn't know if he can form a coherent sentence just yet. He allows himself to drink in the sight of Yuri, hand down his pants, the other moving up to fist in the hair at the front of his head, pulling it loose. “Shit…”

“Beka,” Yuri all but purrs, tugging his pants down a fraction of an inch.

“Digital camera was easiest to access,” he admits with a shrug, shifting to relieve some of the pressure in his tight, black jeans. “The film…”

Yuri drops both hands to the waist of the sweatpants and slowly tugs them down, swaying his hips from side to side. Otabek’s finger repeatedly clicks, taking photo after photo.

“Tell me about the film.”

“It’s too easy nowadays,” Otabek replies breathlessly. “There's little room for error in a digital world.”

Yuri releases the fabric, lets gravity pull the sweatpants to the floor. His tight boxer briefs are--of course--tiger striped, gold and orange and black.

Otabek throws his head back and laugh. “God…” He loves him. He fucking loves him.

“Yura,” Otabek continues, snapping a few more photos as Yuri’s thumbs hook into the elastic waist of the boxers briefs. It's very obvious that this is exciting Yuri. Otabek is far from unaffected himself. “I like taking the time to develop photos. I like knowing that I'm not perfect. I like remembering that photography has traditional roots that speak to simple human error and it's okay to over expose a photo. It's okay to size it wrong, to use too much developing fluid, to overwash the final product. We’re only human.”

“Holy fuck, Beka,” Yuri drops a hand to his front, groping at himself over the tiger print fabric. He moans, soft, breathy. The sound goes straight to Otabek’s groin. “You really are perfect.”

He can't wait anymore. Otabek sets the timer on his camera and places it on the nearest table. As he crosses the room toward Yuri, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

Yuri’s eyes widen, his mouth drops open and Otabek sees his hand tighten on himself as he closes in. “I--”

Otabek slides an arm around Yuri’s waist and pulls their bodies together. “Perfect,” he repeats, brushing his nose against Yuri’s. “That's my line.”

He’s kissing Yuri, right as the first timed photo goes off. And Yuri is melting against him, running his hands up Otabek's arms, gripping at his shoulders. Otabek swallows the moan that Yuri hums against his lips. He slides his hands downward to grip at Yuri’s ass over his tight boxer briefs.

“Tacky,” Otabek breathes with a faint twitch of his lips.

Yuri blinks at him. It takes a moment for his eyes to clear before he scoffs and husks, “You love them.”

“I’ll love them even more when they're off.” Otabek slides his hands into the back of the tacky briefs. He relishes the feel of Yuri’s smooth skin, the roundness of his ass. Revels in the way Yuri groans his name.

The camera goes off again.

He kneads his hands into Yuri’s ass, pulling him in a slow, heated rhythm against his hips. Yuri shifts, reaches behind himself to tug the back of the briefs down.

“Then take them off.” Yuri’s voice breaks, exposes his want in a way the sultry expression on his face could never do. Because Yuri can make that face in photos and sell it like he means it. No one can hear his voice like this but Otabek.

Otabek huffs out a tight breath between his teeth, swears internally because Yuri is making his iron control crumble. He slips a hand downward, pinches at the bunched up fabric and tugs.

The camera click slices through the fog of his mind, reminds him that this is real. This isn't a photo shoot. This isn't Yuri as a model. This is a side of Yuri that belongs to him. His.

He’s about to look down. He’s about to take in a sight he’s imagined, dreamed about more times than he would ever admit to Yuri. Even if Yuri openly admitted to getting off to Otabek’s voice. But Yuri stops him with a hand against his chest.

“Wait,” Yuri gasps, taking a step back. It's amazing how badly Otabek can ache for Yuri even though he’s right in front of him. “Let me just…”

Yuri trails the tips of his fingers back and forth across Otabek’s chest, tracing the tattoo designs. He pauses right over Otabek’s heart, draws circles with the tip of his forefinger before walking them downward.

“How…” Yuri’s voice is soft, awestruck. His fingers dance across the slim line of hair that trails into the top of Otabek’s jeans. “How do you stay behind the camera when you should be on the other side of the fucking lens?”

Otabek let's loose a shaky breath he wasn't aware he was holding, resolutely keeping his eyes on Yuri’s face. “I like to capture moments.” He sucks in another breath as Yuri flicks open the button of his jeans, making quick work of the zipper.

Another picture.

“Uh huh…” Yuri’s eyes are trained downward. He reaches his other hand forward, peeling the jeans open, exposing the stain of Otabek’s lost control. “To capture moments…” He tugs and the jeans pool at Otabek’s feet.

“Not…” Otabek can feel the strain in his voice. “Not be caught in them.”

He jumps as Yuri presses his finger to the stain and circles, slowly. His eyes flicker upward, watching Otabek’s expression pinch as he tries to restrain himself.

“What about this moment, Beka?”

This moment… “Fuck, Yura…” Otabek yanks his boxers down and kicks them and his jeans off his feet. He’s lifting Yuri off the ground, feeling his long, slender legs wrap around his waist when the next picture goes off.

It burns. Everywhere Yuri touches, it burns. It almost feels like he’s etching his own tattoos into Otabek’s skin and Otabek hopes he’s leaving marks because no tattoo he has on his body could begin to imprint on his soul the way Yuri has.

The feverish way Yuri grinds into him, whimpers his name, scratches his back… it’s animalistic. He would expect no less from Yuri Plisetsky.

“Beka,” Yuri gasps, pulling Otabek’s hips forward with a squeeze of his legs. “I’m already…”

Otabek’s fingers slip between Yuri’s cheeks, hooking inward. The broken groan that leaves Yuri’s lips makes Otabek shudder. His grip on Yuri’s hip tightens, bruises. He can feel it form beneath his fingertips, but Yuri doesn't tell him to stop.

His fingers move with ease. Yuri is already so open, already sucking his fingers in as deep as they will go and Yuri keeps panting, “deeper” against his ear.

“You…” Otabek gently withdraws his fingers, gripping Yuri’s ass to support his weight.

“I’m sick of waiting,” Yuri breathes, catching Otabek’s lower lip between his teeth. He bites down, hard. “Stop being a goddamn gentleman. I can take it.”

Otabek snorts and brushes his lips against Yuri’s. “Who am I to deny you what you want?”

As he sinks into Yuri all rational thought crumbles as easily as Yuri fits around him. And he does fit easily. It’s like Yuri’s body was made to consume him.

“Ahh…” Yuri gasps, his nails dig into Otabek’s shoulders, his head tips back. Otabek vaguely hears the camera go off again in the background and can't help but think of how perfect Yuri will look in that picture.

Otabek tilts forward, presses his lips against the stretch of Yuri’s neck, pulls the skin between his teeth. Yuri shudders at the contact, hoarsely whispers, “Yes…” as Otabek bites down.

He drives into Yuri, relentless, needy. Yuri, to his blissed out credit, moves along with him. He uses Otabek’s strong, broad shoulders as leverage, pushes up as he lifts his hips. Otabek can feel the muscles in Yuri’s back clench and release, clench and release. Powerful, overwhelming as the muscles that tighten around him.

“I'm not gonna--”

“I know…” Otabek’s hisses out, slamming a hand against the wall beside Yuri’s hips. He’s not going to last either.

But that's okay. He’s wanted this for longer than he can remember and if it doesn't last forever, he’s okay with it. He knows why he doesn't get caught in moments, because they don't last. But moments never cease to exist. This will end, but he has an infinite number of moments to spend with Yuri.

“It's okay,” he breathes against Yuri’s ear. He slides his lips across Yuri’s cheek to steal a brush of a kiss. “Let go, Yura.” He presses their foreheads together. “Let go.”

Yuri’s voice cracks as he comes, the sound splintering around Otabek’s name. He throws his head forward, pressing his face into the crook of Otabek’s neck. It’s his panting of, “Shit, Beka… fuck, that was so good,” that sends Otabek over the edge.

Otabek now knows what it’s like to be blinded by the flash of a camera. He sees white. Repeated flashes of bright light burn behind his eyelids. He thinks maybe this is what Yuri sees, that maybe he was blinded by the camera too often and that’s why he fell into Otabek’s lap.

But Otabek doesn't care. He’ll flash a few more blinding photos of Yuri Plisetsky if it means Yuri will be his forever.

“Wow…” Otabek presses his forehead against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. “Wow.”

“That's one word for it,” Yuri snorts, shifting his legs so Otabek lowers them gingerly to the ground.

“Can you stand?”

Yuri laughs. “You're pretty damn confident in your skills, huh, Beka?” Yuri sticks his tongue out as he moves one step forward. “I can walk just f--”

Otabek catches Yuri around the waist as he stumbles forward. The camera softly clicks away another photo.

“Well, fuck…” Yuri relaxes in Otabek’s grip as he pulls him back against his chest.

“How about…” Otabek moves them slowly toward the table where he left the camera. He reaches out to switch the power off. “We just stay like this for a little while?”

Yuri scrunches his nose and furrows his brows. “Thought you didn't like being caught in moments, Mr. Fashion Photographer.”

Otabek chuckles and presses a soft kiss to Yuri’s temple. “Maybe I can be caught for a little bit longer.”

#otayuri #oturi #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #yuri on ice #;drabbles #;modelau

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