gn reader :> no tw's i can think of but pls tell me if you find some
There had been hundreds of videos showing relaxing baths filling up Caters magicam fyp recently, something about it being the end of finals, and now everyone wants to call it quits to just relax in between all the school stress.
It sounded, and looked, like a nice time after all the studying he had been doing, or rather trying to study but being less than successful for the upcoming exams. You can imagine how it went, and yes, it is exactly what you're thinking. Just tell Riddo, kay?
Except, if he was being completely honest with both you and himself, this wasn't about social media. He would rather let himself relax with you by himself, instead of worrying about angels, along with looking presentable and the least bit cute. Yeah, Cater wanted to be mask-less this one time so he could actually focus on relaxing, but you really can't blame him.
He still really wanted to make it pretty, though. Cater isn't only for that when he's on camera and looked at by people, you silly. He got flowers, candles, soap for bubbles, plastic flower petals, especially soft towels, and even matching ropes for you both.
This was all before he had actually asked you to, maybe he should have thought about that… what if you didn't want to?! Cater might have fucked up a little bit in his excitement... Woops.
But it's alright, he can get you to agree. It'll be a good time, you'll love it, definitely. It will be fineeee. Cater totally isn't worried AT ALL.
…
Cater had found one of the more private Heartslabyul bathrooms, knowing he would rather text all his old classmates back than have someone else walk in. That's also why he may have been extra nice to Riddle the day before, nothing major, only an extra tart slice, a new crossword book, maybe a few new pens…
He had to make sure Riddle was in a good mood, ok? It's hard to get a key for one of the private bathrooms when your housewarden is an angry little bi- sweetheart. Total sweetheart. Yeah, #totallynotsarcastic
The tub was filling up slowly as he finished setting it all up, a little too slow for his liking, considering he had texted you and hadn't gotten a response yet. Although he knew you had an extra class today and was still in it for a few more minutes, it was still nerve-racking.
Now all the flowers were set up in a way he liked, the bathtub was almost full and already forming bubbles, and the robes had been hung up; it was all going well. All he needed now was for you to respond and then also show up.
Cay-Cay: Heyyy babe, do u have time to come over after class, pretty plz < 17:05 Read
Cay-Cay: Its a surprise i promise u'll love it < 17:13 Read
My lovelyyy😘: ?? < 17:31 Read
My lovelyyy😘: I mean, sure? i'll be over in 5 < 17:32 Read
Cay-Cay: Yesss < 17:32 Seen
Cay-Cay: Just come to my room and ill show ya the way ;3 < 17:33 Seen
…
You opened the door a smidge to a sweet, but humid, smell of raspberries and marshmallows. That scent became even stronger as you entered the room, where Cater sat beside the bathtub, scrolling through Magicam.
He looked up from his phone as you closed the door, his face of surprise turning into a sweet smile when he saw you. Cater quickly stood up and hugged you, the soft fabric of his bathrobe gliding against your own clothes.
His excitement was a little too much to stay down, though, so Cater shoved your own bathrobe into your arms and kissed you on the cheek as he quickly turned his back and 'fixed' details no one would notice weren't quite right anyway.
But alas, he overthought it as usual and needed something to keep himself busy, so you wouldn't be that thing…
Cater may have a staring problem when he's looking at something(or someone..) he really loves.
ANYWAY.
You were finally ready, not that you took long, Cater is just impatient.
And so it was time to enter the water, as you both did slowly with care. No need to rush after all, you had plenty of time to be together, for a few hours at least.
The hot, steamy water touched your skin delicately, soaking every hair, curve, and limb like a soft velvet in liquid form. It relaxed your body in a way unlike any other, and you could see it had the same effect on your boyfriend.
Cater looked more tired than usual, a good thing if you remember how much he usually hides such parts of himself from anyone bold enough to get close to him. Not you, though. You were special to him like no other. To him, you weren't someone who would leave him, as anyone else would.
He moved closer to you, only a little, enough to gently rest his head on your shoulder while still putting a little bit of distance between you. It was sweet, quiet, and comfortable.
was meant to be longer, but I dont have the energy atm😭
The Prefect assists Nyoka with what they expect to be a small and casual photo-shoot for his magicam profile.
What transpires is the most breath-loss the Prefect's has ever experienced in a mere hour's time.
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@cozymochi and @oddberryshortcake 's slitheringly handsome oc makes a return, baby
you know I had to do it to em.
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Now, truth be told, you didn't exactly grasp the huge draw to Magicam.
It seemed not to be dissimilar to your universe's version of instagram, and maybe fused with facebook too based on some of the interface.
Your old friends back home had always found it amusing that you weren't a social-media-bug, despite being so proficient in digital photography.
The short answer to that was: you preferred candids. And every photo on people's socials went through more edits and "touch-ups" than celebrity magazine covers.
Now, by some miraculous grace of fate, one of the first things you acquired when you entered this brand new world was the thing you can scarcely imagine living without - a camera.
A normal one? No. Professional one? Doubtful. Crowley gave it to you, after all.
But until you can get home, the pictures it develops are a high enough quality to satisfy your itch.
Now, even though you didn't exactly shy away from expressing your love for your hobby t your new friends here, it still took the NRC a little while to catch on to your exact talents.
It wasn't until Vil payed you a (shockingly substantial) amount of Thaumarks to photograph a few headshots for Epel that the school got its first a real taste for your skills.
And this was where a certain beastman came slithering back onto your radar.
"A photoshoot?" you repeat as you stall from placing down your final knight. You were in the middle of one of your now weekly sessions of chess matches, currently pretending you weren't vitally aware how badly you were losing this time. "Like, a real one? For your magicam account?"
"Yes." his reply is low and matter-of-fact, and, you notice, without shame.
Not that he should feel shame. Of all people, you think he should not. Every time you see him, it just re-instills in you how unnatural perfect he is.
You have to break yourself free of your own thoughts, teasing him to cover your blush, "Oh? So you don't 'have a guy' for that already?"
"I will," Nyoka leans more onto his knuckle, making the window light flicker across his glasses. "Have you. If you agree to it."
That sets off the heat in your face tenfold. You make a clumsy move on the board that Nyoka takes instant advantage of. A few more moves go by, between you both, before you finally answer.
"Alright" you say, holding up a finger, "On one condition. Outside of lighting and contrast adjustments, the photos get no edits."
You can't tell if the face he gives is because he finds that condition foolish, or if he is minutely approvingly towards your integrity.
Regardless, leans forward a tad more, showing off the sharp juts of his collarbones, and murmurs, "Very well." before checkmating you.
May the Seven have mercy on me, you think to yourself.
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The Seven do not have mercy at all, and in fact, must have banded together for your downfall.
Because when you walk into the private Savanaclaw room where Nyoka texted you to meet him, your knees almost buckle.
"Wadjet." The sight before you is off-guard catching that you call him by his surname.
He gives you only an acknowledging "Mmh?" while adjusting his braids over the many, many defined muscles of his back. Each one sticking out against his sheer shirt.
You think you die while this happens. You're still standing, and awake, but you aren't breathing, so you can't be too sure either way.
"You're-" comes squeaking from your throat.
You were about to say "you're wet", because the statement is true. He is wet. His entire upper half is drenched enough that his shirt has become see-through.
And it so baffling that this is the reality you're in that you nearly just blurt "you're wet" at him, but you can't say that. Not out loud. That can't come out anything but wrong.
He's watching you now, pinning you with those snake charmer eyes. Without the glare of his glasses, the warm sunlike colors in his eyes shine unobscured, drying your throat like desert sand.
Oh hell, prefect, get ahold of yourself. Please. You're a photographer. He asked you because he must trust you to be professional. Do not ruin this already fragile friendship by being stupid.
"You're ready... for the pictures... like that."
Oh god.
"You were late. I got prepared to keep ahead of schedule." Nyoka points out dryly.
He surely must to see how disheveled your expression is, and how your eyes keep skating down his chest, but you're thankful he isn't bringing it up.
You force a breath in and out. "Right. Let's- let's just get started. Where do you want to stand?"
"Are you not the photographer?" Nyoka challenges coolly, "And I not the subject? Your job is to adjust me into the ideal image."
Hauntingly erotic visage or no, he is still the Nyoka you've been playing chess with for the passed weeks.
To yourself, you mutter, "like you need me for that.", while pointing your camera to a few different spots in the room. Looking for the points with the best lighting.
"Over here." you decide, directing him between two deep red curtails.
There's a scoff from him, but he moves obediently to the position. The first pose he tries is a simple one. Raising his arms into a loose grasp of each curtain, stretching his wet shirt up slightly up his stomach.
You swallow hard.
"Uh, maybe, um, turn a little. To the side."
Nyoka edges his body sideways slowly, waiting for your signal to stop. His movement is languid, smooth and fluid as water. His face, though is as impassive as ever, clearly unaffected by the alluded high intimacy of this venture at all.
But in front of the lens, it turns smoldering. His professional training kicking in. His eyes burn you, and his lips are very slightly pursed in a way that accentuates their shape.
The camera is shaking in your hands. If these photos come out blurry, there'll be nothing else to blame except you.
With all your will, you steel your arms.
"Good. Can you," you hear yourself say, "Curl your tale, around your body."
After a minute, his tail slides up from its spot on the floor, and begins to spiral around his waist, peaking up into the lens view of the shot.
"Higher?" you rasp.
He does what you ask. The tail curls up until its a loop frames his abdomen, and the tip is grazing a loose hug to his chest. You swear that somehow you can feel the tail as if its on your own body instead.
Photos snap. Your heart won't stop slamming itself into your ribs.
His scales glitter with the perspiration on his neck. The pose you adjusted him to reveals the contours of his figure like some kind of marble statue in a museum. His skin glowing in this warm, fiery light.
These are probably the best photos you'll take in your whole life, and you aren't sure you can ever look at them again, not if you want to maintain any semblance of sanity in front of Nyoka from now on.
You stop clicking.
"Okay... I got- I got it."
Nyoka relaxes into a more familiar pose, crossing his arms and inclining his head by way to call you over. Wanting to see the results.
You inch over to him. You mean to just hand him the camera, even though it feels like you're handing someone your own severed limb every time you let people scrutinize your work.
But instead, he leans over you. His tall form hunches to peer over one of your shoulders, his wet shirt pressing onto your back, and his hand grabs over your's that's still on the camera.
Nyoka lightly pushes you finger aside with his own and hits the scrolling button. Reviewing the footage.
You do nothing because you actually are dead this time. Every ounce of breath has exited your lungs. There's nothing left inside you except mush and a loud, deafening roaring sound at your's ears.
A hum blows passed your ear. "So Schoenheit wasn't exaggerating. You are well at what you do. I could be impressed, mouse."
Oh yeah, you're dead.
Some mild eternity later, Nyoka rescues your soul by detaching from you. Walking to grab a small towel and pressing it over his neck.
"Adjust the lighting on those final four how you see fit," you hear him instruct you distantly, "I will chose the best one when you send them to me. Have them sent to me before next week's shoot, we'll discuss pay and post dates then."
Life crashes back upon you.
You whip around. Nearly drop the camera, fumble for it, and squeeze it into your both arms like it can protect you from the prospect you just heard.
"Next week!?"
"Next week," Nyoka confirrms. His eyes find your's, they pool heat into like lava. "You're my 'guy' for this now. Wasn't that the deal."
