#was this based on a dream i had | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wh0refornikolailantsov · 11 months

Text

Dreams Of You - Nikolai Lantsov

Summary: Sleepwalking was not something Nikolai was used to, but he thought maybe it was the stress, and at least being back at The Palace should put an end to the way he somehow kept walking to your room. Except it didn't.

Prompt: "I Wish I Could Control Myself Around You." (Also 5+1? Kinda)

Content Warning: No Beta/Proof Reading. Vasily. More Specifically Vasily Being Presumptuous, Rude And Demanding. Some Suggestive Content, But Not Explicit And Not Overly. Unwanted Advances From Vasily. Teeny Tiny Mistaken Identity Trope If You Squint. Explicit Language. Questionable Behaviour And Intent When Sleepwalking. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Word Count: 5k

Nikolai Taglist: @hauntedenthusiasttragedy , @writingmysanity

The night is long and the ocean is unhappy, swaying more violently than you'd like as you drift in and out of sleep. You find yourself wishing morning would hurry in through the port windows so at least your restlessness would be justified. You turn, burying your face into an arm and hoping the tide of sleep might find you sooner than the tide underneath you. The Volkvolny is usually much calmer on the waves, and your sleep is often more forgiving, but something wants you awake tonight, and the Saint's aren't letting your consciousness slip into sleep. You try recounting the stars that should be overhead by now, mapping out the small burning lights in the sky on the wood above your head, as if you could see through the deck and into the dark blue night. When even that fails you, you consider freeing whoever is on deck from their duty, and taking over. But you stay still, your bed may not be calling you, but the bed is a comfort all the same. Not long ago you kept yourself in a hammock like a lot of the crew, but recently the tides have been changing in more than one way, and you find yourself laid on flat supported comfort, that almost reminds you of a home you never really found on land but imagine nonetheless.

The door to your room opens with a fumbling of the handle, just as sleep begins to take you. You blink in the dark, trying to figure out what is happening in the darkness. Your eyes adjust enough to make out the captains silhouette before you find him laying down on the bed beside you.

"Sturmhond?" you ask into the silence. "What are you doing?"

After a few attempts to get his attention, you realise, what likely should have been obvious from the sluggish movements, and the uncharacteristic quiet of him, that he is in fact asleep. You smile to yourself, amused at how he has found himself lain next to you on your bed, in the depth of sleep. You start rolling the jokes you can make at his expense through your mind as he moves to get more comfortable. You chuckle gently as you feel an arm reach for you.

"Careful," you warn him, gathering the warning might seep into his mind even in his sleep. But it seems to have the opposite effect as he reaches for you more eagerly. And it's not until you feel his lips brush your neck that you move urgently up and away. "Okay, no, that's enough of that, Sturmhond, wake up." He does not, and you grip a hand over his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Wake up." You're about to give up trying when he starts to whisper in his sleep, and barely any of the words register in your mind between your own tiredness and the low tone of his speech but it's enough to send you spiralling, so you break protocol slightly. "Nikolai, wake up," you aren't sure if it's the roughness of your voice or the use of his real name but he blinks awake. His eyes stare up into yours for a few moments while he adjusts, and then widen at the realisation that he is looking at you and wide awake.

"I am not in my..." he starts, voice all sleep soaked and charming.

"No, you're not," you confirm. "You sleepwalked, right into mine."

He gathers himself together, starting to scramble up. His apologies are all fumbled, and he stands, and in your fully awake state you can't help but noticed just how un-creased that white bed shirt of his is, and how he sleeps with far too many buttons undone. "Stop," you tell him, pulling your blankets back and nodding to the excess of space in your bed, "you're not going back to your room," you tell him.

"Why?" he asks, eyeing you.

"Because you might sleep walk again and you might be unlucky enough to find yourself in someone else's quarters, someone less understanding," you tell him. He doesn't argue with that, but is still hesitant as he lays back down, still reeling in thoughts of all the ways to apologize to you. His subconscious has betrayed him on a whole new level and he cannot even find the words to explain or excuse it, not that he would try, he just says he is sorry again.

"I can go back," he says. You just shake your head and push his shoulder down gently, turning you back to him.

"Just go to sleep Sturmhond," you mumble, gently mocking but mostly sincere.

"You don't mind?" he checks. Truthfully you don't, you doubt you will sleep worse with him here, you'll probably even sleep better. And there are quieter reasons why you don't mind, reasons based in desire that you keep tucked away. But you don't let your mind linger on that, especially when Nikolai deep in his sleep had tried to press his lips to your neck and you'd had to stop him.

"No," you assure him, "not if you can shut up, I know that is hard for you."

"If this is your seduction plan it's very verbose," he mumbles. The fact that he is half asleep and using words like verbose, still, makes you both want to throw him overboard and kiss him, and you cannot tell which urge is more prominent.

"Besides I think Tamar would be much less understanding if she woke up to you attempting to seduce her," you retort. He opens one eye to look at you, your back still to him.

"I didn't..." he starts.

"Please, like I'd let you get more than hand on me before I would wake you with a knife to your throat," you joke, "now captain, please, I beg you. Go. To. Sleep."

Nikolai was sure now that you were off the Volkvolny and in the palace, that the night trips might stop. It had become slightly worrying that waking up in a room that was not his own had become somewhat a normal outcome of going to sleep. But it had always been your room, and you had for all your jokes and teasing, been very gracious about the whole thing, so understanding of a situation you needn't have been.

He tries not to think about the strange comfort there is about waking up next to you. Because then he might have to address the feelings laying just below the surface and he cannot do that.

But tonight, the third night in the palace you are woken by the sound of the door catching on the lock as it attempts to open. You move to your feet, bare skin against the cold stone of the floor making you jump slightly, feeling more awake. You unlock the door and it gently nudges open, and for all the surprise you thought you might feel, you feel none when you set eyes on Nikolai. You do not bother to wake him. You let him find his way under the soft covers and you let him sleep. When you attempt to move he reaches for you, and that tugs at the seams inside your chest and you're fit to burst.

The ceilings of the palace are intricate, painted into woven patterns that tell stories if you look at them long enough, and you often find yourself looking at them. Your sleeplessness has gotten worse. You don't like to admit it, but you quietly wait for Nikolai to turn up, knowing the only time you really get any true rest is when he is beside you, which is a transient situation that you know could never be anything but temporary.

The softness of the bedsheets, has you spiralling, so soft, so endlessly welcoming, it all feels false, until you hear his breathing beside you, the thump of his heartbeat, and then the doubt slips away, and sleep sets in.

In your dreams you're chased by memories from your time on deck, how you and Nikolai played a game of convincing some of the crew you could grant wishes if they could beat you at cards, Tamar was the only one to ever manage, and you know she cheated. Nikolai could beat you, you knew this, but he never did, in your dreams you remember the conversation when you asked him why, and in the favour of the game he answered, "when I have a wish worth making I will come to you." You had thought of plenty of wishes worth making in the time since, but he had asked for none.

His eyes are glazed with sleep as he blinks awake, the sunrise seeping in and setting the room into a gentle glow. You haven't moved, his arm stretched over you as a silent request for you to stay close, a request you are far too happy to oblige, even if you know better.

"How many rooms did you wake up in before this one?" you ask, bringing a glass of water to your lips.

"Only my own," he says, voice groggy as he stretches. "I thought maybe whatever it was had left itself on the ship."

"Yet you find yourself here again," you say. "You should probably get back to your room, your highness, before they bring you breakfast and set off some type of alarm when they see you missing."

"I doubt that is a likely outcome," Nikolai yawns.

It happens twice before you start to get into a pattern of waking him up shortly after the bells ring out for morning.

You open an eye to see Nikolai as he slips into the bed beside you. "For a Prince you have terrible manners," you tell him in his sleep, "could at least learn how to sleep-close-my-door, if you can sleep-open-my-door."

He moves and you see a dark patch against the white of his bed shirt and your sudden alarm peaks as he leans close to you. "Nikolai," you say a little too loud, a little too snappish and he wakes up.

"Sorry," he starts his apologies, "I don't-,"

"No," you warn him, "you didn't, just hush, are you bleeding?"

Nikolai sighs and sinks into the comfort of your bed, and you lean over him, examining the blood soaking his shirt. "You're injured," you state. You gently tug the soaked fabric away from his body, to try and prevent it sticking to the wound. "Can I?"

"I wake up in your bed most mornings, I think we can skip the fake modesty," he says, smirking at you. You give him a gentle glare but roll up his shirt. His wounds were bandaged but in his sleep he seems to have gently pulled some of the fixings away.

"Nikolai," your voice is more hagridden than he is used to hearing it, usually you are more inclined to mock him in situations like this.

“I am fine," he insists. "Needn't fuss, it is just a flesh wound... a few flesh wounds.”

You shake your head at him, and reach for clean bandages in your bedside table, he doesn't ask as to why you have them and you don't seem inclined to offer an answer as you fix him up. "Nikolai, you're a prince again, not a solider, not a privateer, a prince, you cannot be getting all cut up," you tell him, soothing a hand over his bandages. He frowns and looks at the sheet of your bed.

"I believe that is my blood," he says, "my apologies."

"Only apologise for not keeping it in your body where it is needed, I will hear no apologies for the mess."

Once you're done you start to get to your feet. "Where are you going?" he asks, cocking his eyebrow at you.

"To close my damn door, is that okay your highness?" you ask, hearing the door click close. You'd wanted to close it sooner, but had gotten distracted. You should have closed it sooner, but how were you to know that Vasily would be wandering the halls, looking for a drink and would stumble a glance through your open door to see you and Nikolai. How were you to know that, you leaned over the second prince of Ravka, in your bed, your back to the doorway, whispering in hushed tones would be caught by Vasily. Had you known, you would've easily guessed the conclusions he must have drawn from the sight, but you return to your bed none the wiser, at least now satisfied at the locked door.

"Nikolai what do you dream of?" You ask quietly, not sure if he is still awake. His breathing pattern shifts slightly.

"I don't know," he lies, you know he is lying, but you don't call him out on it, "I don't remember my dreams."

Something felt wrong before you even had reason to realise it. You could hear the footsteps down the hall, and you wondered how late it was, or how early. It felt... too soon somehow. The sun hadn't been long buried by the gulf of the horizon. Usually it took more time passing for Nikolai to fall asleep, and only in the depth of that sleep did he find his way to you. But the footsteps continued to get nearer, and you knew there was really no other reason for someone to be down this way at this time of night.

You rolled over, letting your eyes fall on the curtains, knowing he will let himself in. You feel tired, but not because sleep is calling you but rather the weight of the day is pressing you into your bed.

The door opens and you don't bother looking up, even when it shuts again, even when the pacing of the strides seems unfamiliar, part of you is screaming something is wrong, but you've been thinking about that for a while, but this is a different type of wrong. Not the, we shouldn't be getting so comfortable, not the, we really need to address this situation, not the, you're catching feelings for Nikolai Lantsov, type of wrong. Not the, you're realising you've had these feelings for a long time and they've only just been getting worse with every night he spends in your bed, kind of wrong.

No. This is the type of wrong you can recognise with your eyes closed because of all those things, because you know all the little mannerisms of Nikolai, awake or not, you know how he moves, how he walks, fuck you know how he breathes, you are sure you could pick it out in a crowded room. And this, this wasn't right.

It's when he goes to kiss your neck that you know, that you're sure, but the words come out of your mouth before you open your eyes, "none of that," you say too softly.

"Why don't you let him kiss you?" Vasily asks. You knock him so hard and fast away from you, shoving him with enough force that he falls back off your bed. "Strong one, huh?"

"What, the fuck, are you doing here," all rage, any trace of confusion gone with the sight of those sickly lion eyes. You're not sure what it is about the king and his first born, but they have this eagerness, this entitlement that Nikolai doesn't have in those eyes. They think everything is owed to them, that by breathing the air owes them a debt. You think they'd be this way royal or not. And the way Vasily eyes you now is no exception, he seems to think he is entitled, and he is so many shades of wrong.

It might be the collision of body with floor, and the resounding sound that seems to echo in these walls, or maybe it is the tone of your voice and the sharpness of your words, but whatever it is, it jolts Nikolai from his sleep just before his hand lands on the door of your room.

"Come on," Vasily looks you up and down as if to say 'don't play coy,' and you want nothing more than to cut those eyes out. "I know you like a prince."

Nikolai snaps at that, it sobering him into a sense of alertness he hasn't felt from rising in a while. He might have grown complacent in this calmness, waking most mornings to the gently sound of your voice bringing him back to the world.

Nikolai has his brother by the collar before you can get another word in, and Vasily just rolls his eyes. "Don't like the idea of waiting your turn?" he mocks. You would curse him out, but Nikolai is steps ahead of you, holding his brother tighter and pushing him with more force than he should into the wall. Those eyes of Nikolai's look fierce even in the dim light. "Not eager to share?" Vasily asks, trying to keep the mocking tone, trying to show no agitation, "you never have been, but being protective of a whore is a little much."

"If you so much as look at them again Vasily I will commit acts of treason," Nikolai warns, his voice so steady, so pledging that it doesn't suit the words of heralding threat he is speaking.

"Brother," Vasily tries. Nikolai slacks his grip only to shove Vasily once against, shoulders first, against the wall.

"Do not call me that right now," he warns. And all that usual hybris and bravado that Vasily holds onto, that self importance drains from him in this shadowy dark of your room. Nikolai giving him a look that dismisses any doubts Vasily might have that Nikolai could not do him harm. He could, and he will, and that's a promise as much as a threat. "Get out."

Vasily shakes himself off, and pauses, as if to have another word, some quip, but a look of withholding in Nikolai's eyes makes him think better of it, and he leaves promptly, which you're confident is the only thing keeping Nikolai from violence. One more word from Vasily's mouth, the snarky tongue of that future king, and Nikolai might not have been able to hold himself back any further.

"Nikolai," you say, as if you calling to him might bring him back. His gaze turns on you, and it's urgent and desperate, searching you without a second thought, all impulsive and concern.

"I am so sorry," he starts with the apologies, you've gotten oddly used to hearing him say these words, but they've never been less needed.

"Vasily is not your fault," you remind him. He moves closer, wrapping his hands around your forearms, fingers tracing delicate circles, to calm down.

"He would've have come here if it wasn't for me, he..."

"He must've seen," you finish, "he made assumptions, wrong ones, but understandable ones."

"Nothing about accusing you of being a whore is understandable or forgivable," the protectiveness of how he talks makes you want to kiss him on the forehead and pull him in tight. You settle for a soft chuckle. "Why don't you lock your room?" He asks. It isn't an accusation, not a way to shift blame, it is just a question that has played on his mind and now he has a reason to ask.

"Why do you find yourself in mine?" You ask in return.

"Because you let me in?" he jokes, and there it is, amongst that boiling rage, that keeps him clinging to your arms to not run after his brother and commit those acts of treasons he threatened to commit, is Nikolai.

"Prince Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King's Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and second son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne," you mock, "how many rooms did you try to get in before you found mine?" You're smiling, because you're trying to focus on him, and now, and forget the lingering feeling of wanting to drive the letter opener in your bedside table into Vasily's eye and watch him bleed across the floor.

He gives you rueful smile, trying to be here with you, focus on you, not think about his brother and the ways he wants to tear him to shreds for daring to come near you. "Only ever yours."

"Wake up," you whisper gently. You don't want to, you want to let him sleep, you want to let him stay in your bed because these moments are the only time you feel real lately. Everything seems to be happening around you, and to you, to Nikolai, and you feel like you have lost whatever semblance of control, or illusion of such control, you ever had. But especially since Vasily and that incident, things have been even more complicated. Vasily is too much of a coward to call Nikolai out for threatening him, or for showing him up. Vasily is too much of a coward to confront Nikolai directly at all. But he has been making things difficult. So you're being extra careful. And the idea that this, whatever it is, might be coming to an end all too soon, is not passing you by.

"I'm back again," he says, blinking into the day. He hadn't woken when he let himself in and you hadn't wanted to disturb him, so you'd shut the door and tucked him in and fallen asleep, forgoing any of the chitter chatter you both would usually have in the early morning. But even though the sun was yet to rise, these thoughts were keeping you awake, and your need to talk to him was outweighing it all.

"I changed room," you remind him. This was something else you'd taken to doing after Vasily. "How is it you always find my room?"

"Because I must be looking for you," he says. Those tired eyes, look at you and if you would let yourself consider it, you'd call the look in them longing, you know it must be how you look at him. Your gazes overflowing with the need and yearning that aches, your craving for him being near you worsened by every small moment.

"Is it time?" he asks. You move a small part of his sleep tousled hair back into place and the sound of his voice, the cadence reminds you of a few nights prior.

"Tell me to leave," Nikolai said.

"I won't," you told him. "Just rest."

"Not yet," you murmur, "you can rest a little while longer, I just wanted to hear your voice." The confession is out of line and you know it, but the lines are so blurred between the two of you now that they feel more like suggestions than rules.

"I thought you said I talk too much," he says, face turned part into the pillow and part resting on your shoulder.

"You do," you tease, "but I kind of like that about you."

"I am growing on you," he says, so close to falling back to sleep, "or you're going soft."

"Never," you taunt, "I don't do soft."

Things only got more complicated, like you knew they would, but you never could have predicted where you stand now. You're not far from Nikolai's coronation, and you're sat in the window of the latest room you've been housed in, wondering if tonight he will come to you, or if maybe, the last night was the last night. You knew there would be a last night, but this seems sooner than you ever thought it could come and yet each night always felt like you were overstaying a welcome, living a life that wasn't yours, taking something that wasn't yours to take. Even if it had always been and would only ever be, him finding him way to you.

But now more than ever, the finite nature of it all was staring you down and you couldn't look it in the eye. He was going to be king, he was engaged to the Sun Summoner, even if only in name and not in heart, it was still a fact as much as any other. You were never going to be the option he needed you to be, you aren't even sure if he wanted that from you. Since that very first time on the Volkvolny, he has not again asleep or awake tried to make a move to change the dynamic you two shared, this quiet longing, these warm arms that hold tight but are needed elsewhere by sunrise. You have no way of knowing what he wants, even if his sleep always brings him to you. And even then, wants are not always enough.

The door opens behind you and you turn around, it's early, the moon not quite where you'd expect it to be to be seeing him, but when you turn his eyes meet yours and you can see that he without a doubt, awake. "Moya tsaritsa," you say, "what do I owe the pleasure?"

"None of that," he says, he loves the attention, he loves the joke and the teasing of your tone, he even loves in his way that he will actual be king, but he is not yet king, and in this moment, with you, feeling anything but weary of the title feels inappropriate to him. "Not yet anyway."

"Fine, moi tsarevich, what do I owe the pleasure?" you correct. There is a distain in his glance that he keeps playful. "Now if you've come here under the impression I will be granting wishes, you are mistaken, I have long given up that business."

"I wish I could control myself around you," he replies, and that makes you still. "Is that a wish you can grant me?"

"Is that a wish worth making?" you ask, barely daring to move.

"I suppose not," he admits, "I don't think I would really want it." He moves the distance of the room to be beside you and you can feel his presence as it joins yours, as if it had been missing from you the whole time, like a part of you was simply returning home.

"You are awake," you say, no explanation is needed. He nods.

"I am," he admits. "As are you."

"I am often awake until you arrive," you tell him.

"And on the days I don't?" he asks. They are few in number, you'd both attest that since the first night his sleep based visits only became more and more frequent until they are almost all the nights, a night to every day bar one or two.

"I don't really sleep," you confess, after all, what is a tiny confession like that between the two of you now. You can feel his need to tell you something, the question that he isn't asking, and you want to make it easier for him.

"Ask me what I dream of," he says, "I know you asked me once, and I said I did not remember my dreams, but I lied," the content of the confession isn't surprising but the confession itself takes you off guard. "Ask me again, what it is I dream of."

You can't, you don't know how, the words escape you and the request that falls from your lips in their place might be equally as damning. "Tell me that I cannot have you," you say.

"What?" he asks, turning his head to look at you. You keep your eyes focused on the glass, and the view of the courtyard.

"Tell me that I cannot have you," you repeat, trying to keep the feelings bursting out of you from your words. "Is that a wish you can grant me?"

He says your name and you look at him, and that's it, the words come falling out of you before you can keep any of them down. "Tell me that you can never be mine. Tell me that you are going to marry Alina, or some Shu Princess because that is your duty. Tell me that you shall be King and I could never be more than your whore. Tell me I could never be your spouse. Tell me that you do not want me. Tell me I could never be more than a paramour. Tell me that too much is at stake for you to care about me. Tell me that all these nights you've found me in your sleep have meant nothing. Tell me you do not think of me. Tell me you do not dream of me. Tell me it's all some childish, fairytale fantasy. Ask me to ask you to leave again. Make me tell you that I could never be yours knowing you cannot be mine. Tell me you do not have feelings for me Nikolai. Tell me," your voice cracks, "please."

"I will not," he says. "I will not force myself to live with another lie on my conscience, not one this heavy. I cannot tell you any of those things because I have never wanted to make you anything other than mine. I will not tell you that lie even if it's supposed to be a comfort to us both, I cannot, I will not," he takes one steady breath, those eyes still on yours, and you see the puppy prince you once knew in the eyes of the King you've grown to love, "ask me to leave," he manages, "but not because it's right. Not because I am royal. Not because of duty or honour. Not because you think I should choose Ravka over you, as if those were my only choices. Do not ask me to leave because it's what you think you ought to do. Ask me to leave, if that is what you want me to do. I will never ask anything of you again. Do you want me to leave?"

"No," you say. You never have. You have never had it in you to want him to be anywhere but nearer than he is, closer, with you, always.

"All of my dreams," he says, moments before his lips meet yours, "they've always been of you."

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x you #vasily lantsov #king of scars #rule of wolves #siege and storm #ruin and rising #sturmhond #im a simp for nikolai lantsov #was this based on a dream i had #maybe #mind your business #maybe i dream about nikolai lantsov more than i should but thats my issue #i request we do not worry about how much i think about this man

170 notes · View notes

starbandit · 2 months

Text

Sticky (J.H.S)

Preview: You gulped, swallowing down all the thoughts that flooded your brain. You wanted to pounce on him, something animalistic was growing inside of you.

contains- teasing, slight degradation, small amount of ass slapping/spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dom!hoseok, dirty talk, begging, established relationship 18+ MDI!

word count - 2.8k/unedited

You held your breath as you typed in the code to the studio. Hoseok had left early in the morning, while the sun was still working its way into the sky and the morning dew was still hugging the grass. He didn’t leave before giving you a soft kiss on the forehead, and a gentle tuck of the blankets though. He loved the way you curled up closer to his side, stealing any of the left over body heat.

You wanted to surprise him with a late night snack,you had a little craving for ice cream and wanted to share the sweet treat with him.You had picked up some ice cream on your way over and snuck into the Hybe building. The door unlocked with a click and you silently pushed the door open, hoping you wouldn't give up the surprise too soon.

Only, the room is empty when you open the door all the way. Hobi’s computer is powered off, the chair is neatly pushed in, everything is perfectly in its place and shut down. Did he leave while you were on your way over? No, you would have crossed paths at some point, right? Maybe he had stepped out for a minute and would be back. You took a deep breath before your brain started to feed you extreme thoughts. Kidnapping, him cheating, all of it rushed in at once before you shut the door and made your way down the hall. There was one more place he could be.

As you approached the practice room, you could hear the loud and heavy beats of music. You weren’t sure how he hadn’t damaged his hearing yet with how loud the music was, but you creeped in, trying not to be spotted and sat on the couch in the corner of the practice room and admired your boyfriend.

He was staring himself down in the mirror, examining every small step he made. Each one was done with practiced confidence, perfect execution. You would never not be amazed at how his body went from moving in a wave, like he had absolutely no bones, to these extreme sharp movements in an instant.

Soon enough, Hoseok stopped dancing and instead crouched down to check his phone. It wasn’t until he looked into the mirror that he spotted you. His face instantly lit up, a large smile growing as he stood back up. “Baby!” He squealed out as he rushed towards you. “When did you get here?”

You giggled as he cupped your face and planted tiny kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. He caught you in a warm kiss, soft and innocent. You smiled against his lips before he pulled away.

“I brought ice cream.” You smiled as he made a surprised expression, mouth forming a cute ‘O’ shape.

Hoseok smiled and pulled you into a hug. He was sweaty, his shirt damp from the hours he spent dancing. He gave you a tight squeeze, rocking from side to side. “Thank you.” He planted yet another kiss on the top of your head before releasing you to dig into the ice cream.

The two of you enjoyed the ice cream, both giggling as you stole bites of the other's flavor. Conversation flowed naturally as Hoseok talked about his day, all the hard work he had put into his set, and how he was so excited for you to see how it turned out. He listened as you rambled on about your day as well, nodding along with the conversation as you talked about annoying co-workers and wanting to stay in bed all day.

“I’m going to run through one more time and then I’ll head home with you,” Hoseok moved to clean up the empty ice cream cups. “Does that sound okay, baby?”

Your heart fluttered at the pet name. No matter how long you had been together, it still made you feel like the day you started dating. You hummed in confirmation and nodded your head. “I’ll be cheering you on, like always.”

He smiled and finished cleaning up, before running back over to the mirrors and tapping play on his playlist. You watched him carefully as he ran through, making it about halfway before his actions made your heart race. You watched as the mirror began to fog up, you could see the sweat beading on his face.

Hoseok reached down and tugged his shirt off, throwing it off to the side as he continued to dance. His soft abs flexed with every movement. The blood rushed to your face and you felt your cheeks growing hot. Sweat glistened on his skin, dripping down and highlighting every section of his abs, all the way down to the thin layer of hair that dipped below his waistband.

You gulped, swallowing down all the thoughts that flooded your brain. You wanted to pounce on him, something animalistic was growing inside of you.

Suddenly, the music stopped and Hoseok was stood in front of you. He crouched down next to you and silently captured you in a kiss. It was soft and warm, a stark contrast to the dance you had just watched him perform. It was always warm with Hoseok, something you could melt into in an instant. You did so, easily falling into his touch and the softness of his lips.

His hands held you gently, a small hum sounding from him as you moved closer to dig your hands into his hair. Your hands made their way to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in the sweaty strands. You gave them a gentle tug, something you knew Hoseok enjoyed.

He let out a small whimper at the movement and you quickly captured his bottom lip in a light nibble. You whined quietly as he pulled away from the kiss, not yet untangling your fingers from his locks. “Come on, let's go home.” Hoseok said quietly, moving to help pull you up.

You shook your head, fighting the movement. You wanted, no, needed him now. You weren’t going to wait for however long it took you to walk home. You pulled him down into another kiss, this time growing much hotter. Your hands gripped his hair, tugging at the locks a little harsher this time, and deepened the kiss. Your tongue peaked into his mouth, tasting the remaining sweetness of the ice cream on his tongue.

Hoseok smirked against your lips as he pulled away. “That impatient?” He questioned in a teasing tone. He shook his head. “Such a needy baby.” He gently tugged you closer, tugging you into his lap after he sat on the ground. You could feel his growing erection against your heat, the thin shorts he had on covered absolutely nothing. You sighed at the feeling, rocking your hips forward in a slow grind as you leaned in for another kiss.

Hoseok gently cupped your face, taking control of the kiss this time. He kissed you a little too soft, a little too slow, just enough to keep you wanting more. Each time you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back slightly. He was teasing you, like a bird taunts a cat through the window. He did it for long enough to draw a needy whine out of your throat before he fully kissed you, capturing you in a red hot, messy kiss.

You moaned at the feeling, your hands reaching up to find purchase on his bare chest. You melted into the kiss, allowing Hoseok to paint your mouth with his tongue. His kisses were intoxicating, your brain buzzing with the feeling and taste of him. The subtle sweetness mixed with his natural taste was enough to soak your underwear.

“Couldn’t even let me finish my work,” Hoseok snaked his hand between the two of you, fingers dancing over your clothed center. “You were that desperate for my cock, hm?” He teased as he pushed your hair to the side with his other hand. His head dipped down to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “Such a needy little baby.”

“Hoseok,” You whimpered as he rubbed small circles over your clothed clit. Your hips twitched forward, searching for more friction. “Hobiii,” Your eyebrows furrowed together.

He hummed against your skin, trailing his tongue from the base of your neck up to your ear. “What is it, baby? What do you want?” He nibbled on the outside of your ear, a shiver snuck its way now your back at the sensation.

“You, I want you.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Be specific.”

Your ears grew hot. You could be specific. Tell him about how you want him to strip you naked and eat your pussy like it was his last meal, wanted him to sink his fingers deep into you and massage the spot that made you see stars. You could tell him how you wanted to ride him, bounce on his cock until you were shaking and out of breath.

But that isn’t what came out of your mouth. “I want you to fuck me, please, fuck me until I can’t walk.”

“Come on,” Hoseok withdrew his hand and bounced his leg to get you to stand. You stood up and followed Hoseok. He led you to the front of the room, straight in front of the large mirror that sprawled across most of the wall. He quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and folded it, placing it in front of the mirror. “On your hands and knees.”

You froze for a second before a smack on your ass made you jump. “I said, on your hands and knees, or do I need to force you?” Hoseok questioned. You quickly dropped to your knees, falling onto the shirt. You watched as Hoseok pulled his shorts and boxers off at once, kicking them across the floor. Saliva built up in your mouth as you stared at his cock, tip pretty pink and shiny with precum.

It wasn’t long before Hoseok dropped to his knees as well and pulled your pants down, the waistband settling in the crevices of your knees. “I want you to watch.” He gently tugged on your hair to make you pick up your head. You locked eyes in the mirror, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you watched him. Your arms shook as he placed a hand on your ass and used the other one to drag his cock up and down your pussy. You watched as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, admiring you. “Hobi, please,” You whimpered as you pushed back slightly, trying to get him to do something.

His hand pulled away before coming down again, a sharp smack sounding through the room. You winced as he rubbed his hand over the area, soothing the hot skin. “So needy,” He muttered under his breath as he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock before plunging in.

A moan ripped its way through your body as he settled into place. Your arms shook before crumpling under you, your cheek making contact with the cold floor. Hoseok gave you a few thrusts, hips moving with practiced ease, hitting every spot that made your eyes roll back. You whimpered with every movement.

Hoseok's grip tightened on your hip, pulling you back with each movement to meet him. His other hand trailed up your back, fingertips tickling the skin and making you wiggle with every touch. His hand landed under your shirt, skin hot and burning your back the longer it sat there. He stayed for a few moments before his hand retreated from under your shirt and moved over the fabric, finding its way up the back of your neck and into your hair. His fingers tangled into the locks, twisting them over his hand and tugging hard. A whimper flew out of your mouth as he tugged again, this time enough to get you to push back up to your hands and stay there.

“Good girl,” He growled out a small praise. “Look in the mirror, watch yourself.”

You were a mess. You caught a fuzzy glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the glass was fogging back up, moisture beading and dripping. Your lips were bitten red and glossy, the color matched the deep blush of your cheeks. Drool glistened and stained your chin, sweat dripped down your neck and painted the hickeys Hoseok had so graciously left on your neck. Your eyes were glassy and pupils blown, eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure.

Your eyes flickered to Hoseok, who was intensely watching your every move. An animalistic glint glossed over his eyes and a smirk painted his face as he delivered a particularly deep thrust. You tightened around him, watching as his jaw clenched and a groan pushed its way out of his body.

Every roll of his hips brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. The drag of his cock over your walls made your thighs shake. You pressed back in desperation, trying to get him impossibly closer, deeper. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gasped, chasing the high that was just out of reach.

“Poor baby, do you want to cum?” Hoseok wiggled his hips before stopping his movements, cock nestled deep in your pussy. “Pretty girl, are you close?” He released your hair, gently combing through the sweaty strands.

You whimpered and nodded. “Please, wanna cum.” You pushed back against him. The heat was dissipating with every second. “Please, Hoseok, I can’t.” You let out a broken moan.

“I wanna watch you do it, fuck yourself on my cock, baby.” He planted another smack on your ass.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you tried to find a messy rhythm. You rocked yourself back on Hoseok’s cock, moving your hips in an attempt to hit the same spots he was. A frustrated whine left your lips as you desperately tried to chase your high back, the heat slowly building up once more in your abdomen.

You continued until you were out of breath and collapsed forward with a pathetic moan. “Too tired, baby?” Hoseok reached forward to gently stroke your hair. You gave a small nod. His features softened before his grip on your hips tightened. “You were so close, huh?” He rolled his hips forward once more. He clicked his tongue and let out a breath. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

You had never agreed to anything faster. Hoseok immediately picked up where he had left off, moving his hips in ways you could only dream of and hitting spots that made you see stars. His hands danced from your hips, snaking around until his fingers found your clit.

“Fuck, fuck,” A guttural moan ripped through your body. The heat in your abdomen grew as Hoseok rubbed the bundle of nerves. “I-i’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.”

“Cum for me, baby.” Hoseok grunted. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass grew louder. “Cum on my cock, I know you want to.”

“S-shit.” Your whole body shook as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy spasming around Hoseok's cock. Your vision went white and your ears began ringing as you let out a loud, pornographic moan.

You heard Hoseok let out a string of curse words, his hips stuttering forward in a messy rhythm. “Gonna fucking,” He let out a strangled moan, “Fill you up so good.” You gasped as he released, hot cum painting your insides. That alone was almost enough to push you into another orgasm, almost.

Hoseok stayed where he was for a few moments and drew small circles over the exposed skin on your lower back. “You ready?” He questioned softly. He waited for a hum of confirmation before slowly pulling out of you. The cum dripped down your thigh as you collapsed to the ground, groaning at the soreness in your muscles. You were thankful of the shirt Hoseok had placed below you, it had both saved your knees from more pain and was going to make for easier clean up.

Hoseok hushed you as he wiped you clean with the discarded shirt before wiggling your pants back up over your hips. He gave your ass a soft pat before moving to get redressed himself, digging through his bag to find a fresh t-shirt.

He wasn’t about to let you sleep on the floor, instead coaxing you up with promises of a nice bath and a head massage at home. He giggled and cooed over your tired expression as you stood up, dodging a playful slap from you at the teasing. Hoseok admired your features for a few moments longer before you two set off back home. He couldn’t believe you were his, his pretty baby.