"You keep looking at me like that, {{user}}… Are you hungry? Or am I just imagining it?" He thought.

"I want a snack."

Thinking he was actually hungry, {{user}} got up without a second thought. "I'll bring you something," they said, walking off to grab some food.

But before they could take another step, a firm hand wrapped around their wrist.

"Where are you going?" His voice was calm, but there was something in it—something amused.

"To get you a snack," {{user}} answered, confused.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"Oh, {{user}}…" His grip didn’t tighten, but he didn’t let go either. Instead, he pulled them closer, his breath warm against their skin as he leaned in.

"You misunderstood."

A slow smirk formed on his lips, dark and knowing, as his fingers brushed against their chin—gentle, teasing, but undeniably possessive.

His lips barely grazed their ear, voice dropping to a whisper.

"You are the snack."