ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

The two of you sit in a restaurant together, waiting quietly for your food to come. It’s a dingy diner that you had convinced him to come to since the food was good and cheap despite him offering to take you somewhere nicer.

Your seats are tucked into a private corner in the back where conversation can be free and open without the fear of anyone ease dropping. The calm atmosphere also offers comfort which is a plus.

“It’d be weird for our co-workers to be all up in our business,” you expand, nodding at your own words, thinking them to be completely reasonable. “I want our privacy to be respected.” Also if you guys ever break up it isn’t awkward for everyone around you but you don’t say that part aloud.

You don’t really expect a relationship with Tamsy to last, as badly as you want it to. He’s the hottest person you've ever dated, and he’s a great partner. You’re just hoping not to fumble this!

“I’m not too fond of that idea,” Tamsy bluntly responds and for the first time he’s caught you off guard, he’s a pretty predictable guy and often agrees with you. Why isn’t he doing so now? Tamsy definitely seemed like the type of man to want a secret relationship, for his own sake or yours didn’t matter. You thought the two of you would connect when it came to that.

It seems you were wrong.

“I wouldn’t pursue a relationship with you if I wanted to hide you.” Tamsy continues and he narrows his eyes at you while his hand shakes over the wooden table, the cracked wood making his skin look that much softer. You take his hand when he motions for you to give it to him.

“That’s not the purpose of— don’t make it sound like that.” You scoff, a small smile on your face, a little flattered by his words. “I’m not trying to hide anything, I just don’t want the people I work with to know about my dating life.” You clarify, squeezing his fingers in yours, you look down at your entwined hands before shaking them around.

“I like you, Tamsy. I don’t want anything to get messed up because of other people,” You confess, baring your heart a little, eyes meeting his for a moment. You take a deep breath, gathering yourself before pulling your hand away, closing back up. “Anyway it would just make me more comfortable.”

Tamsy hesitates, you can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t want this but he bites his tongue, gaze softening.

“If that’s what makes you happy.”

—

Tamsy had a problem. An aggravating, biting, constantly nagging problem. You.

Tamsy didn’t really like you, he simply needed you to save face, to present himself in a more domestic manner. Though you had (unexpectedly) suffocated his plan in the way you would a flame.

Now he was stuck in a relationship that had no use.

You’re just some little supporter with a pretty face, sure you were plenty talented and had the potential to become a giver but outside of that you offered nothing if not helping him look good. The reason he picked you to pursue a relationship with was because it felt natural getting close to you, you just made it so easy.

Tamsy stares into his mirror, brush in hand. His hair lay over his shoulders, brushed through and ready to be tied up, but he was too worried about what he would do next.

How could he convince you to be more open about the two of you? He wants everyone to know, yet you want the opposite and a good boyfriend would respect that.

He could just start clinging onto you, being more affectionate. Ugh, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tamsy just wanted the easy way of letting people know by casually telling big mouth Enjin about the two of you dating, word would get around fast then.

Looks like he has no choice but to do this the humiliating way.

—

Tamsy huffs dramatically, leaning into your arm. The lounge is filled with the other cleaners, lights dimmed down low with the smell of alcohol in the air along with the sound of food being grilled. Oil pops loudly on the stove, the pleasant smell of meat being roasted filling the air.

“I’m exhausted,” Tamsy complains, face nuzzling deep into your neck. Thoughtlessly you chuckle, rubbing the top of his head affectionately. Tamsy catches himself smiling against your neck for a moment, he doesn’t even notice you stop touching him until he schools his expression. “Why’d you stop?”

You shimmy your shoulder around and Tamsy sits up, feigning innocence, confusion even. Such a trickster.

“Could you be any more obvious?” You scold, brows furrowing. You’re not truly mad, the little smirk quaking on your lips makes it clear enough.

“I couldn’t even begin to guess what you're babbling on about.” Tamsy smiles, eyes squinting into small crescents. He scoots closer to you and you allow it, a giggle escaping you.

“Couldn’t you act normal, like you usually do?” You whisper, not having to be any louder with his face being only a few inches away from yours.

“This is how I normally act.” Tamsy bluffs leaning a bit closer before turning his head away. Your smile falls, surprised at the sudden movement. You suppress a laugh when you see his playful pout while leaning to the side to catch sight of his face.

“Someone’s being a grump,” You tease eagerly, hand slipping into his. You take a quick look around, everyone’s either drunk or slightly tipsy and preoccupied. The only (maybe) sober person is Seimu who sits next to a red faced Enjin, clearly out of his mind drunk. You wince, knowing his hangover is going to be hellish.

“Let’s get out of here.” You suggest, Tamsy turns towards you, raising a brow in question. You roll your eyes at his immature gesture, pulling your hand away. “Come on, or don’t and stay here with Enjin and Gris.” Tamsy’s nose scrunches up at that and he jumps to his feet alongside you.

—

Tamsy felt ever so clever. The two of you leaving together? Perfect, he was sure someone must’ve seen, even if they were crazy drunk or tipsy someone was sure to remember, he knew Seimu saw it. She was bound to gossip about it to the biggest blabber mouth to grace the earth, not cause she wanted to be evil, just cause Enjin happened to be her good friend.

Now he just had to plan how he was gonna leave your room. Last night the two of you had snuck off, laying down together and simply speaking gently to one another about meaningless things. He hates to admit it but he quite enjoyed your company, you knew how to keep up a conversation while still asking meaningful questions. Not only that, you had some funny stories.

His favorite one was when you shared your passion for music and how when you were a teen you signed to a company and trained for a few years. You’d even released an album that you hated because of how cutesy it was. You said it was likely lost to the media by now and it only made him want to find it all that much more.

Tamsy looks at your sleeping form in the corner of his eye, you sleep facing away from him, cheek pressed into your pillow, mouth slightly open and showing your two front teeth. Ha, you look like a bunny. Dumb bunny, sly fox.

Tamsy smirks to himself at his clever joke, feeling a little better than a few moments ago. His eyes drift to the door and he hears footsteps echoing up and down the corridor every once in a while.

Tamsy stretches lazily before standing up, grabbing Tokushin off your night stand and placing it in his pocket. He pads over to the door before looking back one last time at your figure.

His heart squeezes. He was leaving quite early wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he stay awhile longer? Then the hallways will be a lot busier, then maybe he’ll get spotted by someone leaving your room and they’ll catch onto what’s happening.

Yes! Perfect idea, quickly Tamsy pads back over to the bed, shuffling back under your blankets, getting comfortable without a second thought.

He watches your back for a moment, hand reaching out before wrapping around your waist along with the other one. Tamsy burrows his face between your neck and shoulder, eyes drifting closed. Sparingly giving you affection would make you all that more pliable in the future.

He always had such clever ideas, didn’t he?

—

“Tamsy!” You hiss for the millionth time, finally becoming impatient. You had been gently trying to wake him up for the past fifteen minutes but all you’ve gotten out of him is a groan.

“What is it?” He sleepily answers, you frown, brows furrowing. You shift around, unable to move out of his grasp due to him being completely limp on top of you.

“Get off of me,” you reply sourly. Tamsy hums, eyes not even opening before begrudgingly flipping his body over to the other side of the bed. You let out a satisfied breath, finally being able to sit up. “Thanks, also don’t you have a mission soon?”

It’s silent for a moment before Tamsy pushes himself onto his back, sitting up on his elbows, half awake. You watch him adoringly as he blinks hard a few times.

Tamsy looks over at you and gives you a tired smile, slightly irritated. You raise your brows at him, titling your head.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Your hair isn’t even up.” You continue on once you realize he’s barely awake enough to respond.

“Are you trying to rush me out?” Tamsy asks, seemingly offended. You playfully scoff at his question before crawling off the end of the bed, getting onto your feet eagerly.

“Nope!” You simply respond, though your sarcasm is plausible. “You just usually leave earlier, you know?” You clarify, looking back at him while you pick up a blanket that had fallen to the floor due to Tamsy’s hazardous sleeping habits. He hears the little bit of joy in your voice and it only makes him want to groan. More expectations, amazing! He’s done it to himself though, hasn’t he?

Tamsy follows behind you, quickly gathering his things and properly dressing himself in his clothes from the night before. He throws the pajamas he’d worn into your hamper as per usual, he always keeps some clothes in your room that he can change into. You don’t bother to do the same, instead just using his clothes when you head over to his room.

The collar of the shirt he wears is wrinkled and so are the pants, he doesn’t seem to care much since he doesn’t even take time to brush his hair. You squint your eyes at him as he simply ties it into a messy bun with the most ridiculous sized hair tie you’ve ever seen.

“Brush your hair,” you say, catching wind of what he’s doing. Tamsy turns his attention to you, feigning confusion. “There's a brush in my desk drawer? Use it.” You walk to the drawer yourself and open it before handing him the brush, thick bristles with a pretty design etched into the handle, Tamsy had gifted it to you when you had complained about your hair being a bother.

“Why? I’m only heading back to my room.” Tamsy dares to ask while taking the brush from your hand. He doesn’t start to brush his hair like you’d told him to, instead holding your gaze, questioning you despite knowing the answer.

“If someone sees you leaving my room it’ll look suggestive.” you bluntly respond, not shying away from his gaze. Tamsy bottom lip juts out, a complaint on his tongue but he stops himself, simply bringing two fingers to pull his hair down and moving past you to sit at your vanity.

You think the conversation is going to end there but Tamsy suddenly speaks up.

“I don’t understand why you’re so ashamed.” Tamsy sighs, beginning to brush his hair by starting at the ends, gently untangling the knots.

“Ashamed?” You say, the word seemingly harsh. Your face contorts into frustration, barely visible but there. “I’m not, we already talked about this.” You firmly respond, trying to end his insinuations. You had already been risky yesterday leaving with him all alone, you didn’t want things to be anymore obvious. People wondering about the two of you was one thing but knowing for sure? Absolutely not.

“It just doesn’t feel like you're confident about us, I really don’t understand the issue.” Tamsy pushes again, locking eyes with you through the vanity, he pushes his hair over one shoulder, beginning to get to the roots of his hair. Tamsy diverts his gaze down for a moment before bringing it back to you, “is it..that you're insecure?”

You go quiet at that, wondering the same. Is it that you feel less than Tamsy? Would you feel embarrassed standing next to him while others watched, knowing about your romantic predicament? The answer is, no, not really. You’re sure of yourself and you wouldn’t care what others thought of you two.

You may not be as charming as Tamsy but you know your worth and it wouldn’t make you feel like you were any less than you are now to be seen as his counterpart.

Still, you don’t like his insinuation. Is that what he’s been thinking all this time?

“Don’t say that, you know that’s not it.”

“Then what is? Are you embarrassed of me?” Tamsy continues on, now turning towards you but still sitting. You shake your head, becoming more upset.

“Stop. I’ve already told you why.” You snap, you turn away, shutting him down. You hear Tamsy let out a sound of disappointment but you ignore it, not letting his sulking get to you.

You both are adults, with more important things to worry about. If he can’t understand that then that’s too bad.

—

You sit quietly with yourself at a small cafe that you’d found a few weeks ago and have been visiting every now and then. You’re sure you’ve been keeping them in business with how many desserts and drinks you’ve been ordering. They’d be a lot more popular with proper promotion, but you’ll enjoy the food here while the prices are ridiculously low.

You stare at your reflection in your iced tea, swishing around the liquid with a plastic straw. You wonder if maybe you’d been a bit harsh towards Tamsy.

You understand him, he wants others to know of your relationship not just to show off but to feel like he has nothing to hide and it’s not that he does have anything to hide it’s just that.. you’re shy.

That’s the real issue, you can’t bring yourself to do big displays of PDA or live with the expectations of people when it comes to the two of you. Not only that but eventually the two of you will have quarrels or even break up and everyone will know, that’d be horribly humiliating, you can’t bear to imagine it.

Your cheeks become hot at the thought, the concept already enough to get you flustered in your seat. You abruptly grab the cup and gulp down the tea, earning a few stares from those around you.

Aren’t you thinking a bit negatively though? If you and Tamsy last (you hope you do) then there’d be nothing to be ashamed of. You and Tamsy love each other and you could easily just open up about not wanting to do PDA. But then again, you don’t want to disappoint Tamsy.

Sometimes you have to get out of your comfort zone for the sake of others, right?

—

Tamsy watches you from across the street. Yes he knows it’s creepy, odd even but no one around him suspects a thing, even with him quite literally staring you down through the cafe window.

You often come here when you’re feeling down, you probably thought it was your personal thing but it had somehow become a couple thing without you even knowing.

Does this count as stalking? It probably does, but Tamsy doesn’t care, he could always play it off as a coincidence. You’d probably fall for it, silly little supporter.

Tamsy quietly chuckles to himself when you down your iced tea as if it were a pure alcoholic shot. You were always so amusing, but beside that thought he could see you were contemplating yourself. Hours and hours of watching you made it easier to tell when you were overthinking.

Which is exactly what he wanted. His lips curl into a relaxed smile when you stand up out of your seat, gathering your things and removing your work choker, dropping it into your purse with a fierce expression.

Seems like you changed your mind about contacting him, which was a shame. Looks like he’ll have to win you back, relationships are so tiresome!

—

A few days later Tamsy is watching you out of the corner of his eye as you gaze out of the van window, Gris drives smoothly in the driver seat, avoiding pot holes and trash as he serves around guaranteeing a relaxing ride.

The few cleaners that ride with you are asleep, Enjin snoring loudly in the back along with Rudo who’s drifted off alongside him. Zanka fights sleep beside them, arms crossed and gaze strongly focused on the back of Riyo’s head who sits on the other side of Tamsy. In the very front Tomme chats in whispers with Gris, something about a new song that a niche music artist dropped.

Tamsy uses that moment to let his hand snake into yours, you tense for a moment before letting your hand fall limp into his, not returning his hold. Tamsy frowns, looks like this is more serious than you let on.

Tamsy takes one more discreet look around, this time Zanka’s fallen asleep as well, head lolling back into a position that’s sure to cause soreness. Enjin’s finally stopped snoring and Riyo’s also drifted off.

Tomme and Gris are preoccupied in their own conversation which means he has this moment to himself.

Tamsy presses his side against yours, chest to your arm, that’s when you turn to face him, giving him a warning look. He ignores it with a sweet smile, reaching across your body to try and pull you into his shoulder. You resist for maybe a moment before letting out a quiet impatient groan and resting your head on his shoulder.

Tamsy coos condescendingly and it only fuels your frustration, he winces when you pinch his side, hard. Tamsy only tightens his grip on your arm, deciding to let it go before letting his head fall on top of yours.

Before he knows it he’s drifted off.

—

By the time he woke up everyone was out of the van and you were long gone. You left faster than Tamsy expected, you probably hadn’t fallen asleep just so you could sneak off before anyone woke up.

Tamsy hadn’t hesitated before heading into headquarters to look for you, he checked your room first and surprisingly you weren’t laying around then he checked the lounge and the only thing he received from that was the sound of a buzzing fly.

After all that searching all he could do was whine internally, not having the energy to find you and deliver his fake apology about pushing boundaries, what a waste of all that buttering up he did back in the van.

“Tamsy,” you shout, waving at him from behind the front desk as he enters the main area. He stops and turns to see you sitting in Seimu’s chair, are you serious? “I got some bread with uh, artificial berry jam. Want some?” You offer with a cute smile, eyes scrunching.

Now you wanted to act all sweet and cute? Why couldn’t you have been so sugary a few days ago?

Tamsy shuffles over quickly but pushes the bread you offer to him away, watching as you blink in surprise at the denial. You then simply shrug, continuing to eat.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Tamsy asks immediately.

“Basically, Seimu has a stomach ache so I’m filling in for her and also—“ you don’t get to finish before Tamsy leans in to give you a fleeting peck on the cheek. You freeze for a moment before smiling awkwardly and letting your eyes roam the room for a moment.

Empty, silent, just you and Tamsy. You relax at the realization.

“You want something?” You sigh out in relief, Tamsy’s shoulders fall, face stern with frustration, you can only muster up a cheeky smile at his pouting. “What’s up with the sulking?” You tease, reaching out and poking the fat of his cheek.

Tamsy pulls his head away, giving you an unamused look. Ah, he was in a bad mood wasn’t he?

“I don’t want anything.” He bluntly answers, clicking his tongue. You pucker up your lips playfully, leaning over the desk to land an obnoxious kiss on the corner of his lips.

Tamsy internally cringes at you purposefully being gross.

“Someone’s grumpy—“ you chitter.

“Wow.” A voice interrupts, your heart visibly drops and Tamsy’s heart soars in satisfaction. Your heads turn in sync only to meet the sight of Enjin awkwardly standing there.

This was the worst outcome for you and the best for Tamsy, whether you know it or not.

“I’m either imagining things or (name) (last name) just gave her coworker a sweet ol’ kiss on the lips!” Enjin jokes, letting out a scratchy laugh. Tamsy blinks at the odd wording before letting out a subtle laugh himself. You send him an aggravated glare.

“Get lost, Enjin.” You groan, backing away from Tamsy, clearly annoyed at your own slip up.

“I would’ve never imagined the ever so professional—“

“Fuck off, what do you want?” You interrupt. Your eyes might as well be glued to your skull with the way you're consistently rolling them with a passion. Enjin continues to laugh, slowly but surely he calms down enough to stumble away in his quieted laughing fit.

Looks like he didn’t need anything at all. Unfortunately nothing would keep Enjin quiet about this and both of you knew it.

Tamsy watches like a deer in headlights, blinking every so often. Slowly he rears his head towards you, careful of what expression he makes. You stare back at him, face hot and flushed with embarrassment.

A slow smile pulls up onto Tamsy lips and he chuckles, leaning forward to give you a real kiss. You whine, still upset with what just happened but return it, giggling along with him, teeth accidentally clashing together a few times.

Tamsy pulls away, forehead resting against yours.

“I really thought it’d be you who’d slip up.” You confess, eyes drifting down to stare at the floor. Still, you have a cheery expression, befuddled but not angry like he expected. So cute.

“Mm, looks like we have nothing to hide any longer, don’t you agree?” Tamsy questions, hands tightening around your shoulders reassuringly. You peer at him before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Alright, you win but I’m not out right saying anything.” You compromise with yourself, for once Tamsy rolls his eyes at you, cupping your cheeks in an affectionate manner.

“Whatever you want.” Tamsy hums, pulling you closer just to kiss you again.

He was starting to like you, so he may as well indulge, isn’t that right? You’re a pretty good kisser anyway.

the two of you weren't exactly close during your days in the academy. he was on top of the class, favored by masters, cheered on by classmates, rivals with another formidable fighter. and you—well, you weren't really remarkable enough. yet, zanka nijiku remembered you.

“guess introductions aren't necessary. but, zanka here will be your instructor.” enjin gave a thumbs up. “he's the best person to ask regarding your jinki.”

“we were classmates,” zanka finally said but in a whisper. “where did you even..? how?”

“eh, how i found them shouldn't matter right now!” enjin put a hand on zanka's shoulder. “old friends should have time to reconnect with each other!”

enjin left the two of you alone—both flabbergasted, surprised to see the other standing in front of them with a vital instrument in hand.

seeing zanka again brought back memories, but his aura seemed lighter now—like he lost some of his confidence and is slowly regaining it back still.

as for zanka, he was always so preoccupied with himself during the days in the academy. even so, he remembered you.

because you never overglazed on him or bothered him when things got iffy with hyo (at least, for him). and you didn't look at him like he committed something heinous the way everyone did when he picked a weapon that didn't look like one to everyone else—which is lovely assistaff now. and for those things, he was grateful.

“that staff,” you broke the silence.

zanka ran his fingers delicately on assistaff. “yeah. she was that stick from before.”

“well, that’s— she's beautiful.”

zanka's fingers stopped trailing on his staff, and his eyes met yours. he saw honesty, and no hint of mockery in them.

you never really saw him for the facade he put up. you saw him as him.

“thank you,” was all zanka could muster—and he knows it isn't sufficient for every subtle kindness you've shown him, and you probably weren’t even aware of them.

you chuckled a little. “only you, zanka nijiku, could bring out the best in something people rarely cared about.”

your smile as you said those words were so genuine zanka felt his chest ache.

dang it. zanka felt his heart do a series of jumps with your words.

careful now, he might just fall for you the way younger you did for him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Kimi’s words echoed softly on the many TVs located in the hospitality suite. “Like… the car was broken,” his voice crackled on the intercom, heavy with a watery swallow that was easily recognizable as a bitten-back sob. 

All you could do was sit and watch with a frown as the air seemingly left your lungs. Your heart throbbed dully with the ache of hearing him so broken, his strained words ringing in your ears. It was agonizing, knowing he was in pain so close to the paddock where you sat, yet completely out of reach. 

As sponsors and family chattered around you, your mind drifted back to where it all began. You had been friends since preschool, back when his hair was long and blonde and straight, though his attitude was the same. Back then, he was more soft-spoken, choosing to quietly play with his Hot Wheels while others screamed and cried. And when you sat next to him for the first time during school, he shyly shared his crayons, and you offered the Fonzies from your lunch kit. 

From then on, the two of you grew up together. The planned playdates turned to elementary school sleepovers, which turned to awkward middle school dances, and eventually to high school study sessions. 

Even back then, Kimi was one of the hardest workers you had ever seen. It had been evident since you were kids, when he began to insist on karting rather than playground hangouts. He wanted to be one of the greats, and he wanted you right by his side, cheering him on. 

Eventually, he had pursued his passion in racing, going to F1 at just 18, while you graduated and went to college. Life pulled you apart naturally, but neither of you would let that happen. You Facetimed whenever possible, often during late hours of the night. Sometimes the calls were quiet, just doing natural tasks together, glad to have each other's presence. Often, his little sister Maggie would come and interrupt to talk to you, or his mom stopped in to see how you were doing. 

Because of that distance, he invited you to every single race, but you could rarely go with all of your schoolwork. And so when you finally agreed to fly out to Britain for Silverstone, he knew he had to make it special. 

God, he wanted to win for you so bad. The weekend had started so good, winning the sprint and earning the right to start ahead of everyone else on the grid. Until the actual race day, when his car decided to fail him, and all of his hard work had come undone. Yet, the part that stung him  the most was not losing the race, but it was the painful knowledge that you were out there in the audience, watching one of the worst days of his career unfold. The beautiful fantasy he had built up in his head, where he won the race, dedicated the victory to you, and you fell head over heels for him in a grand romantic gesture, had all come crashing down. 

So when the race was finally over, he kept his helmet glued on tight, walking to his drivers room for ten minutes of peace before he had to deal with interviews. He locked the door behind him, his helmet not slipping as he crashed onto the couch. 

A faint knock filled the empty room within thirty seconds of his arrival. He didn’t make an effort to move. He was not in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

“Kimi? It’s me.”

Well, unless it was you.

His hands quickly slid to the door, unlocking it with a hushed click. It took a moment, but you slowly pushed in, your eyes meeting a defeated and exhausted Kimi. Your heart sunk at the sight, noticing the way his head slung low, helmet still on. He never kept his helmet on. Always said it was too restricting. 

“Hey,” you murmured, sinking down next to him, hands immediately reaching for the head protection. Kimi just watched through the tinted visor, letting you take off his only defences. He would never push you away.

His cheeks were red and puffy, part from exhaustion, and part from crying. His eyes were glossed over, darting around to avoid meeting yours. You had known Kimi long enough to realize he didn’t want some bullshit speech or whispers of sweet nothings, so instead, you wrapped your arms around his coiled up form.

Instinctively, he surrendered to the embrace, his damp curls tickling your neck as he nestled his head in the crook. Your hands roamed along his back, eager to soothe his sobs by providing some sense of comfort through familiarity. His chest hitched and shuddered, drained of all strength under your touch. 

“I am so proud of you, Ant,” you whispered shakily.

Kimi’s trembling hands grasped desperately at the back of your head, spread palms digging into your hair as he pulled you closer. The unshared nickname you had given long ago sent a surge of sentimentality down his spine. 

“I wanted to win for you.”

His words were muffled, but they still stabbed straight at your heart. Your head shook softly as the vibrations tickled your skin.  

“You already won in my eyes,” you started, pulling back to look at him so your words really stuck. “You are literally the most impressive nineteen year old I’ve ever met, Kimi. You race professionally for Mercedes. But–” your voice froze for a second, poorly attempting to block out tears before you continued. “But most importantly, you are so compassionate and kind and full of love, and trust me, not everyone can say the same. You make me feel like a winner for getting to be your friend. You will always be a winner in my eyes, because of who you are when the helmet comes off.”

The silence grew thick as Kimi stared at you with wide eyes, searching your face with an expression you didn’t quite recognize.

Until he lurched forward, his lips meeting yours in a passionate, borderline needy kiss. 

It took a moment before you leaned into it, the shock morphing into realization, before quickly changing into devotion. Years of built-up yearning spilled into the messy kiss, emotions overtaking any restraint. Memories of Kimi flashed through your brain, from him holding you through long nights to making you laugh so hard you fell to the floor, and it only made you pull him closer. One of his hands slid to cup your jaw, fingers trailing desperately across your delicate skin.

When you finally pulled apart, his lips were slightly-parted and glossy, and his pupils-blown out as he scanned your face. His hands stayed glued to you, not ready to let go of your warmth completely.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” he confided, his Italian accent thick in a way that filled you with wistfulness. The confession wasn’t the long, grand speech that he had prepared in his mind, but somehow the lack of words was substantially more intimate.

“Neither do I.”

A tender smile graced his face, his expression melting into a lovesick gaze. You let out a breathy laugh in response. Words didn’t feel important enough to fill the quiet space, so neither of you dared to utter another sentence. 

Unfortunately, a loud knock at the door echoed throughout the room to break that moment of peace for you. 

“Kimi! Interview in 5!” A woman’s voice rang out. It was probably some PR lady, based on the way her heels clicked and lanyard jingled as she walked away.

“After your interviews and dinner and stuff… you want to go get gelato? It won’t be as good as our spot in Italy, but it’ll be something,” you asked, slowly drifting away from his touch so you could leave before he got in trouble.

He dropped his hands, which suddenly felt dull and cold, your words still processing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

He nodded as you two parted, sneaking one last kiss before you slipped out of the door. God, he couldn’t wait until tonight.

You had no idea how it had progressed this quickly. 

One moment you were friends, crying in each other's arms, and the next, you were making out in the silky sheets of his hotel bed. 

The taste of pistachio gelato that lingered in your mouth swirled with his stracciatella-flavored spit as your tongues clashed eagerly. Kimi’s hands drifted everywhere, from your ass, to your back, to your hair, as you straddled him, desperately trying (and failing) to ground himself. Everything was so new, so unfamiliar in a way that only urged the two of you to keep exploring. 

His hips involuntarily grinded upwards in such a smooth motion that it made you squeeze your thighs around his. Your teeth bumped together a few times accidentally, a small inconvenience born from the consequences of your messy fervor. Cautiously, his large hands slipped under your shirt, navigating a territory unknown to him. You didn’t flinch.

The lace of your bra tickled his fingertips as he cradled your boobs, eliciting a whiny moan from his puffy lips. The gentle hum bleeded into your kiss, and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. Running along his clothed chest, your hands pawed at his belt, eager to unbuckle it without parting from his mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Kimi stuttered breathlessly, pulling apart just slightly so he could talk. The moonlight leaked in through the partially-closed curtains, casting a silver glow on your face. For a moment, the words vanished from his mind, your flushed cheeks and loving gaze rendering him speechless. 

He swallowed nervously, the sensation bringing him back to consciousness as he remembered why he stopped. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” you whispered, your eyes darting rapidly across his face, searching for a slight twitch of the lip, or scrunch of the eye, anything to hint at what he was feeling. Insecurity sprouted in your head and doubt seeped into your bones. Maybe you were moving too fast, doing too much. On instinct, you shifted away from him. “Do you still want to?”

Noticing the change immediately, his arm reached to pull you closer, if you were willing. He nodded rapidly, his voice a desperate cry. “SÌ, please, yes.”

You smiled into the kiss, hands going back to fumbling with the metal clasp of his belt. Kimi quickly got the memo, frantically pulling the edge of your shirt up. Helping him out, you disentangled your lips, only to pull the shirt off, before immediately going back to the warmth of his mouth. He scrabbled with your bra clasp, his attention mainly devoted to feeling around with his tongue. His hands shook in anticipation as he finally got it undone.

You shrugged the delicate fabric off and to the sheets as Kimi gently flipped you over. He peeled his shirt off hastily, watching as you shamelessly paused to marvel at the sight looming over you. Smugly and with a newfound confidence, he grasped at your hand and brought it to feel his chest, before lowering it down slowly across his abs. If you were thinking straight, you would roll your eyes at his cockiness, but your mind was too clouded with lust to care. Even as he took away his hand to shift your skirt off, yours remained on his torso, feeling and exploring the muscles like you always dreamed of.

Meanwhile, your skirt settled to the floor, and Kimi’s breath hitched at the sight of your matching lace panties. He paused to admire the dainty pink fabric, hands trailing carefully over the scalloped edges. 

“You like ‘em?” You smirked, watching his eyes drift back up to your face as he was brought back down to earth. Doubtful his mouth could let out anything but an embarrassing whine, he shakily nodded, fingers still aflutter as they triflied around your thighs. 

Your hands strayed down, leaving the crevices of his abs and grabbing at his loose belt. 

He stopped you yet again.

With all the courage he could muster, he spoke again, voice laced with anticipation and a hint of longing. “I want to make you feel good first. Can I?”

His eyes were misty along the rims, a pleading glare cast upon his facade. It was overwhelming, going from hopelessly pining over his best friend to having her bare beneath him. 

This time, it was you who was too starstruck to reply. You agreed fondly, eyes never leaving him as he dipped down beneath your legs. 

A flush pink creeped up your neck as his hands slid your panties down, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. You didn’t shy away like most would. You trusted Kimi, whole heartedly.

His lips graced the plush of your inner thighs, peppering kisses gingerly across your slick skin. The warmth sent shivers up your spine, a stark contrast to the cool air spewing in through the vents and tainting your arms with goosebumps. On instinct, your fingers flew to his curls, gripping on for dear life at the gentle touches. You needed something to stabilize your body, shaking with anticipation. 

His eyes shifted up, lashes fluttering as he studied your expression with the evaluating stare of a strategist. Carefully, and without shifting his gaze, his tongue darted out to give a long, slow lick up your wet folds. Watching your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, he licked again, this time pausing to suck on your clit and coating the spot in spit. A breathy moan escaped your lips as you shifted to lean on your elbows for support.

Every whine went straight to his ego, his confidence increasing as he moved again hastily. This time, his tongue poked at your entrance, silently asking for permission to taste you deeper. Dripping with saliva and wetness, it was easy for Kimi to slide in your tight hole. Your legs spasmed momentarily around his head, while a sweet, musky taste flooded his mouth, one so inebriating that he could only compare it to fine wine. He lapped profoundly, hooked on the new taste of your salty flesh.

Quivering, you silenced your moans by biting your bottom lip, turning it cherry red. Kimi’s tongue explored your warm flesh, noting every spot that made your muscles twitch. He was so eager to make you feel good, to force the dreamy whimpers from your throat, to please you in a way no one had before. It was intoxicating to dangerous levels, an addiction forming quietly in the back of his mind.

One of his hands released from clutching your waist, gravitating down to where you needed him the most. Moving his tongue back to suck on your clit, a finger delicately replaced the emptiness inside you. Kimi went slow, his heavy eyes looming the whole time to make sure you felt comfortable. When you nodded desperately, he pushed farther. 

It was only one finger, and yet it had you clenching and twitching and moaning his name in pure ecstasy. The sight was unbelievably lewd, your nipples peaking in the moonlight, hands grasping and releasing in his curls, all while wet sloshes filled the air. His moves were deliberate, calculated almost, as if he were lovingly assessing data for race. He studied your every move, determining if you could handle another finger or it would be too much for your pretty pussy. He grinded messily against the edge of the mattress, his dick straining against his jeans at the sight of you, all disheveled for him. No one else had been able to experience heaven like he had. The thought had him throbbing harder. 

A second finger twirled around your entrance, gathering slick to make the stretch less painful. You hadn’t spoken in minutes, only breathless (and slightly pathetic) sounds escaping your mouth. His skin was so warm, palms dewy with sweat as his free hand groped around needily. The smell of sandalwood from his cologne floated faintly in the air, lingering and mixing with the smell of pure lust-filled adrenaline. 

“Is it okay if I–”

You interrupted him immediately. He could do anything he asked. 

“Yes, please, god, Kimi, yes.”

He smiled, love, and boldness, adorning his features as he probed another finger toward your tight hole. Your eyes snapped shut, swimming with tears as Kimi’s considerable fingers stretched you beyond familiarity. And just as you caught your breath, he curled them ever-so-slightly, moving against your walls until he found the spot.

A string of croaky curse words left your achy throat as he assaulted the area with a special kind of compassion. Everything was too much. His sweet taste loitered on your tongue, his hands worked with intense delicacy, his lips suckled against your clit, all working together and forcing you undone. Sopping plaps filled the hotel room, the sound so risqué you were sure the hotel had heard and blacklisted the both of you by now. 

“Oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna–”

Kimi cut you off before you could finish your sentence. Not with words, but by fucking you harder, moving his fingers faster and with more purpose, licking everywhere he knew would get a reaction out of you. You weren’t lying when you said Kimi was the hardest worker you knew. When he set his mind to a new goal, he wouldn’t stop until it was complete. And right now, that goal was you.

Waves of unexplored pleasure came crashing down in an instant, your legs quivering so hard it was foreign. Everything shook with staggering bliss, even your toes clenching to try and soothe the ecstasy. Kimi lapped your juices up fervently, devouring every drop until you physically wrenched him away by the hair. 

Your liquids leaked down his chin as he grinned dopily, so clearly proud of himself. You pulled him back up to you with a smile, wanting to feel his balmy skin against yours as your breath evened out. A few moments later, and you were reaching at his jeans for the third time, thankfully, with no push back. 

He slid off his denim pants, the heavy fabric and metal belt clasp making a thud as they hit the ground. You gulped nervously at the outline of his hefty bulge, his grey boxer briefs already stained with precum. Kimi noticed your hesitation (he had gotten quite good about noticing shifts in your mood), and instantly went to cup your jaw, a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. 

His touch was so comforting, and he was so patient and selfless, it only turned you on farther. You reached out, one hand sliding his boxers down carefully while the other wrapped around his length. 

Pearly drops of precum beaded and leaked from the pink tip, dripping down and spilling onto your skin. It was bigger than you expected, the girth making only enlarging it to a degree that was both delicious and nerve-racking. You couldn’t help but give it a small, drawn out lick.

A frantic, low groan grumbled from the back of Kimi’s throat, the noise so lewd it made you soak slightly. His head tilted back, revealing his pronounced Adam's apple that bobbed as he swallowed. 

“I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he whimpered, hands pawing at your head to gain some control. You smirked coyly, staring up at him with a sneaky stare.

Against his desires, he pulled apart slightly, reaching for his abandoned wallet on the nightstand and pulling out a silver foil packet. You snatched it, ripping the package with your teeth before slowly rolling it against his length. You wanted to tease a little, but you were too desperate yourself to prolong it. 

Laying you back softly against the white sheets again, Kimi pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, the taste of you still present on his tongue. He only broke it so he could look down, aligning the tip of his wrapped cock with your hole. His thumbs traced the side of your face, soothing you for the mixture of pain and pleasure that was to come. Wetness from earlier still soaked your thighs, making it easier for him to glide the tip in.

It burned at first, the initial movement stretching you past any previous limits. He shook as he slowly pushed deeper, pathetic groans echoing off the walls. 

“You’re doin’ so– fuck ! So good- f’me,” he moaned out, coaching you through it while also trying not to bust before even getting started. 

You let out a cry of gratification, the pain gradually morphing into something much more satisfying. Kimi finally bottomed out, leaving you full and needy. He had to pause and focus on soothing his erratic breathing, the feeling of your fleshy walls clenching around him making his head ring. His eyes tensed shut for a moment as he adjusted to the unknown feeling. 

When his heart finally slowed to a pace that wasn’t borderline dangerous, he glanced up through hooded lids to check on you. Nodding frantically, your nails scratched at his back, urging him to move, do something.

With a soft tug, he pulled back out, lips meeting yours again. The loss of your warmth made him involuntarily plow hard back into you, hitting that special spot that lay deep inside you. Both of you let a groan into the kiss, not daring to break it just yet.

His pace increased rapidly, drilling into you uncontrollably like a dog in heat. It was messy, and frantic, and so full of love, your mind buzzed and muted out all other senses. He wished he could speak, say anything, help you through it somehow, but his voice failed him. All his focus went into making sure he didn’t come too soon. And judging based on how his balls were clenching and his moans getting louder, it didn’t seem likely that would last long. 

You had pulled away from his lips to look into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and his lashes waved, and for the first time, you fully grasped the situation. You were sharing one of the most vulnerable moments of your life with Kimi, your Kimi. Your heart suddenly felt full at the thought.

And then he looked at you, really looked, and came to the same realization in his mind. The girl he had always dreamed of, in his arms, looking more beautiful than ever, even with flushed cheeks and matted hair. God, he couldn’t wait to spend his life with you.

“Fuck, fuck! M’so sorry, I’m sorry,” he uttered, his thrusts slowing down and hitting deeper as his climax hit. It was short. Too short. Fuck, he was embarrased. The warm cum filled the silicone as he stilled inside of you, though he silently wished the border wasn’t there. 

You both let out a sound of breathless laughter, post-nut clarity easing the mood a little. 

Honestly, the entire reason the four of you had even gathered at Kenma’s apartment in the first place was for gaming. Kuroo, like always, had managed to irritate Kozume for days, twisting some farfetched tale that his newfound fling had wanted to try fps. So, he agreed to show her the ropes. That was until Kuroo placed his fucking hands on her hips, guiding her ass into his crotch until both of their eyesights couldn’t fixate on anything but each other’s skin. 

Which unfortunately left you and Kenma alone with a story game you’d convinced him to try. At first, it was exactly what he expected — exactly like you explained: long, choice driven, full of tension and consequences that followed the same notion of a butterfly effect. It was as though one wrong move, one missed clue, and a character died. There were no second chances. No sense of safety when making such impactful verdicts; all the storyline did with your opinions was shift the outcomes, forcing a new wave of obstacles that only hastened anxiety. 

Such an odd game of choice… though, it did surprisingly keep his attention away from the two imbeciles mouth fucking on the floor. So, that was a win.

Well, until the romance came. The sappy moments between fictional characters that overrode any achievement the two of you had accomplished. You managed to escape a monster? Eh, anyone could do that. You became mayor of the town and saved at least half the population due to your studious objectives? So what.

It was like the hours worth of dialogue options, the tiny decisions that somehow affected communities and personal growth didn’t matter. For fuck’s sake the main character nearly died three separate times and still the game wanted them to care more about whether they held someone’s hand at an opportune time.

It was like he was surrounded by unfettered lust; both the game and Kuroo made him miserable. There was no escape from such coitous actions; writer ploys, hormones… affection was everywhere. Couldn’t horror and mystery just rest on unsolved enigmas? Sure, Kozume could swallow Tetsuro ruining his floor with sweat, but a game built on strategy and decisions… that felt almost churlish.  

Yet, still, here he was — letting the two of you play through such a dumbfounded game, allowing your body to position itself near the edge of the bed with his controller in hand. Kenma leaned against the headboard beside you, eyes fixed on the cutscene unfolded on the screen. And finally, after what felt like fucking forever, the main character sealed their choice of love with a makeout session. 

Kenma rolled his eyes, puffed out cheek rested atop the grooves of his fist. I mean, c’mon, who would even fall for that? Probably an idiot — his eyes followed upwards, the glimpse of your kicked feet glinting in the corner of his eyes. “Finally,” you groaned. “That took, like, two hours of decisions just to get to this point.”

He couldn’t believe it. You had seriously based the majority of your decisions to get to this point? A mundane scripted sequence that only blasted shitty music to get an emotional rise. And their tongues… gross — all tangled together like they couldn’t function without devouring each other’s insides. 

Stupid storytelling. 

“What happened?” Kuroo poked his head from above, his girlfriend whimpering softly from the lack of attention she inadvertently received (so fucking abhorrent — he better dump her asap). “Wait. I thought we wanted Mira to end up with Asher.”

“That was before we found out he spread the rumors about Maeve.” Kenma affirmed. “So our decisions have been pinpointed on Kole since then,” his eyes glazed over his friend's enmeshed body. Idiot. “You’d know that if you paid attention.”

Kuroo furrowed his brows, palmed hands braced on either side of his lover's head while his eyes lowered at the frustrated setter. “Well sorry that I’m entertained over here.”

“I hope you get mono.” 

You snorted at Kenma’s declared medical curse, the sound quickly joined by Tetsuro’s girlfriend. And if on cue, she peered her head just below the captain, irises fixed on Kozume’s exasperated glare. Yeah, he was definitely not letting her come back. Still, she seemed oblivious to the setter's attempts to cut their intimacy off, pressing her lips against Kuroo’s which earned a short grunt from the depths of his throat.

Kenma was fucking baffled. I mean, what was so pleasurable about kissing anyway? It was just two people pressing skin against skin. There was no way it felt good (if you get his gist). Yet, here his friend was, acting like his life depended on such foolish acts. 

“If you keep staring like that, you’re gonna come off as a prude.” Kozume pushed his exasperated expression towards you. “Don’t get mad at me! Just saying…”

“I don’t get it.” Kenma grumbled, layered hair pushed back to take another look at the two bodies in constant movement. “Why do they have to keep kissing?”

“Because it’s cute.”

Cute? What part of it was cute? From the outside it looked like they were about to eat each other’s skin. “It’s disgusting.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you Kenma, it’s—” Kuroo was cut off by faint vibrations, a sound trickling near the middle of his girlfriend's shorts. “Babe… is that your vibrator?” 

Okay. That crossed a line. Even your cheeks heated at that comment; something Kenma awkwardly took notice of. “Oh,” she said casually, reaching deep into her pocket. “It’s my roommate. She texted that she needs me.” 

The tension dispersed after that resolute; soft chuckles and relaxed postures echoing across the room. Even Kenma visibly eased, a quiet and relieved sound murmured under his breath — a string of thank yous uttered to the universe.

Kuroo’s girlfriend didn’t seem to mind the thirty seconds of embarrassment however, already stepping back toward the door while Tetsuro followed behind her with exaggerated reluctance, still complaining the entire way like he hadn’t just spent the last four hours attached to her face. And when the front door clicked not even ten minutes later, Kuroo stumbled in like he’d been personally betrayed by every higher being for getting cock blocked. 

Little did he know his anger should’ve been directed towards her roommates' need for support. That’s what he gets for dating a freshman. 

“You still up for the game?” you asked.

But Kuroo didn’t respond properly. Instead, he made it exactly three steps into the room before collapsing face-first onto Kenma’s air mattress with a dramatic groan. “I’m emotionally drained,” he declared. And within seconds, his voice softened into something incoherent, phone slipping from his hand as his breathing evened out. “Don’t do anything… fun… without me…” he mumbled, already half-asleep — just like that, he was out cold, sprawled across the blankets like the sole reason to be at Kenma’s was just to face fuck his girlfriend.

“I hate her.” 

Your palms pressed against the bed, pushing your torso sideways to get a better look at the setter next to you. His brow was raised, the edge of his lip downturned in pure repulse to the memories of displayed intimacy. “Huh. If I didn't know better, I take it you haven’t kissed anyone, Kozume.” 

“Huh?” His cheeks seared with red; something he tried, and failed, to hide with his hair. “That’s… not the reason why. Besides, I’ve kissed someone before.” The ends of his fingers pulled at the drawstring of his hoodie, fabric pooling around his wrists due to your blatant declaration. Kenma wasn’t embarrassed about his inexperience, that much was certain. But for you to just expose his personal information… like it was normal? Now that — that made him retreat.

“Only one?”

Kenma’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Stop acting like it’s odd or something.” 

“It’s not odd,” you added quickly. “It’s just… Kuroo, as uh we can see, is like always tongue deep in his girlfriend. I just thought maybe…” Your face warped promptly at your own thoughts. “Okay, don’t laugh. Just hear me out.” Kenma disregarded your comment entirely, chuckling lightly at the way your ears turned a soft shade of pink. “I just mean — he obviously thinks it's incredible. So I figured maybe he would’ve, I don’t know, dragged you onto a double date or tried getting you to kiss someone too.” 

“I would die if he did that.”

Yeah, honestly, it was a stupid notion. There was no way in hell Kozume would ever follow Kuroo's egregious plans. For fuck’s sake it took you months just to get him to talk to you in English class. Let alone sit near you. “Look, all I’m saying is if you kiss someone you’re close to, you’ll probably understand why Kuroo can’t stop putting his lips on another girl. You can’t disregard the whole making out just cause your first kiss sucked.” 

Kenma stared at you from beside the headboard, fingers still curled loosely around his hoodie strings. “Uh, and who would that be?” The room fell silent after that; the only noise coming from the forgotten game in the background, the characters voices incoherently reiterating the coded dialogue the developers inputted. And of course, Kuroo’s snores. “Do you have someone in mind?” 

Fuck. Now it was your turn to hide — head pushed to the right to keep your eyes peeled away  from the setter. Originally, there was no intention behind your comment. The declaration purely based on the notion of an unknown female. But you had to admit, it did sound like you meant yourself. And really, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. If Kenma were to have a better kiss, the most plausible outcome would be with someone he knew. Someone he was comfortable with. “Why don’t you,” you paused, left hand coming up to press against your cheek. “Kiss me.”

“Oh.” His torso leaned forward, head tilted and hung low as he eyed your tense posture. “Okay.” 

Really, it was that easy?

Okay, no, this is good — you’ll just take the kiss… slow. You heaved your body upwards, feet tucked beneath you as you scooted closer to Kozume, the boy whose hips still slouched against the headboard as he watched with cautious eyes. And for a second, neither of you moved. The two of you just stared, fixated on each other as if this was some ridiculous side quest triggered by a stupid captain who couldn’t keep his mouth off his own girlfriend.  

But you’d be damned if you backed out now; especially with the way his attention had drawn on you, like the entire concept of affection had suddenly narrowed down to you specifically. And really, what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t let Kenma experience firsthand why people got so addicted to kissing in the first place? So, despite every echo of denial in your brain, you leaned forward, pressing the rounds of your lips against his. 

Kenma stilled; his eyes wide and body trembled with nerves (or was it anticipation?). Either way, his eyes eventually shut, his movements promptly following suit of yours — slow pace, no tongue. Just pure inexplicit intimacy. 

And for a while, just your mouths moved in tandem — until Kenma’s fingers innately sunk underneath the hem of your shirt, rough fingertips brushing against the skin of your waist. Honestly, he was better than you had imagined: His lips would consistently follow yours, head swiftly adjusting whenever you deemed it necessary to shift sides. Even his grip would unconsciously tighten when you moved away, hoodie sleeves bunched around his wrists while he tried tugging himself closer between every gasp for oxygen.

Really, you half expected the boy to deepen the kiss with the way he seemed so eager… until he pulled away, golden eyes peering at your flushed cheeks and pouted lips. Only, this Kozume seemed different than before. His pupils, which were now blown wide, looked almost half dazed, like his brain hadn't really caught up with what just ensued. 

Huh, maybe he just isn’t a fan of kissing in general. 

Nonetheless you still opened your mouth, prepared to ask the stunned setter if he could discern Kuroo’s reasoning now for such a public display of affection. But Kenma didn’t wait for the words to leave your mouth. Instead, he kissed you again: This time needier, sloppier, as if something in him had finally clicked to the idea of how much a turn on lips could be. A soft sound escaped your throat when his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you forward until your legs slid across either side of his lap. The sudden closeness dragged a shaky breath from both of you, mouths parting briefly just to breathe before reconnecting again. Even his hips ground upwards, the pure feeling of ecstasy just from kissing now prevalent in his own sweatpants. 

God, how did Kuroo do this everywhere? Did he truly have a boner each time and just hid it? 

Your fingers instinctively twisted into the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his torso forward until he had no choice but to switch positions; his frame now towered above your sprawled out body. Still, Kozume wasted no time in pushing his pelvis back against yours, grinding in slow, deliberate circles until a string of groans vibrated against your lips. 

Truthfully, it seemed as though the poor boy was utterly lost in bliss — the very same feeling his friend had for the past four hours. And now? Now Kenma was pissed; because why the fuck wasn’t he having a makeout session for half the day? 

But you didn’t mind the switch-up of your friend — the way he pressed eagerly against your shorts. Nor did you mind the string of saliva sealed against your neck every time he became too overwhelmed with kissing — the neurons of his brain not able to compute such a surge of hormones.

Frankly, Kenma was going to lose it. The way the hem of your underwear exposed itself from the constant tug and pull of his hips, the gasps you exuded from each push between your legs… Yeah, he wanted this to go farther. Who cares if Kuroo was in the same room. 

Honestly it was too bad girls didn’t just carry around their vibrator like Tetsuro assumed… eh, he could always just use his controller.

You said it so simply, as if you were ignoring the details of what happened earlier that clearly contradicted your “it's just milk”. 

The moment the third period came to an end, Senku dragged you out of class without saying anything. You had grown used to it, hence you let him tug on your wrist softly without asking questions. 

He guided you swiftly through the bustling hallway. The two of you reached his locker, and before you could peek to check what he was reaching out for, he handed you a small milk carton. It was still cold.

He clicked the roof of his tongue out of annoyance. “Your glucose levels crashed halfway through the third period. How many times do I have to tell you not to skip breakfast?” 

You gave him a cheeky smile, already familiar with the gesture. “Thanks, Sen. I woke up late again, okay?” 

Behind the two of you, Taiju and Yuzuriha watched the interaction. Both were clearly shocked, however, for two completely different reasons. 

Taiju aggressively pointed at the milk carton in your hands, “Senku! How did you keep it cold?!” 

“Insulated water bottle and ice. She won't drink it unless it's cold.” He said so casually while reading something on his phone. 

Yuzuriha, however, wasn't curious about the science behind the cold milk carton. No, she was curious about the scientific explanation as to why you acted as if this was normal. How Senku acted as if this was normal. 

“Was that really normal? I don't think it was…” she asked when it was just the two of you; her voice remained soft and polite. 

Senku had made his way to the science laboratory while Taiju was eager to see another fascinating experiment of his. 

You hummed, “Yeah, that's just how Senku has always been. I call it his acts of science. He says it's to keep me efficient.” 

Senku always did things like that. He had a knack with his small gestures, weaving them into the fabric of your daily life.

It wasn't strange or new to you. Not really. Not when he's been consistently doing it for years. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You constantly complain about headaches almost every afternoon, especially during study sessions. Muttered complaints fell from your lips easily, and rubbing your temples became a habit. 

“You're dehydrated.” You heard him say from across you while working with a circuit board, one that was too complex for you to understand. It wasn't a question; it sounded like a statement from his observation.

You lift your head up, tired eyes meeting his striking red ones. With a weak smile, you muttered out, “Thanks for the diagnosis, doc.”

“Tch.” 

He didn't say anything else as he pulled out a water bottle from his bag, followed by a pack of electrolyte powder. 

He pushed the opened bottle forward, the bits of electrolyte powder already dissolving into the water. “You’re inefficient when your body is malfunctioning.” 

You gave him a knowing smile before he continued to work on his circuit board. Senku's focus returned to it, or so you thought. 

“And your caffeine intake is garbage. Stop consuming it like a lifeline.” 

Your smile faltered. “Hey, you're acting like you don't drink coffee too, genius!” You retorted, frustration lacing your tone.

Without even glancing up from his circuit board, he shot back, “Unlike someone, I don't rely on it to function properly.”

You threw an eraser at him, to which he dodged effortlessly, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

Still, despite your banter, there was an undeniable truth. Senku always seemed to notice everything before you did.

Yet you never asked. That was just the way he was—always too observant. Always a step ahead.

Right?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The science laboratory always smelled like chemicals, metals, and something burning whenever Senku felt like it. 

It was enough to remind students passing by that Senku Ishigami was inside—most likely taking something apart or fixing it, mixing chemicals, or accidentally blowing something up. 

The laboratory wasn't just occupied by him; there were multiple other students working on something. Though they were never as over-the-top as the ones Senku worked on.

In the middle of it all sat Senku, who had recently cleaned up after a chemical experiment. The sleeves of his lab coat were now rolled, revealing his forearms as he worked on the blueprint of his next rocket model. 

The room around him hummed with conversation, though most people knew better than to interrupt him while he worked. 

Which was why a question from another student caught everyone off guard. 

“Hey, Senku.”

“What?” He replied flatly. 

The student hesitated briefly before pointing at Senku's wrist. “What's with the hair tie?” 

Every head in the science laboratory turned immediately because now that someone was brave enough to mention it, there really was a black hair tie looped around his wrist. 

It wasn't unusual at first. Not until people started noticing months ago that Senku always had one on his wrist. They assumed it belonged to him, perhaps to tie his hair during experiments—but no, his hair defied the laws of physics. 

And he never used it. Not even once. 

The student leaned back against the table, a grin on his face as he asked, “You got a girlfriend or something?” 

The room instantly erupted as the question flew out of the students’ mouths. 

“No way! Senku? Seriously?” 

“As if! You really think he has any time for romance?” 

“There's no way, are we talking about the same Senku Ishigami?” 

“That's what a hair tie means, though!” The student argued defensively, pointing at Senku's wrist. “It's literally a thing, guys wear them when they're taken.” 

Senku didn't even bother to look up from the blueprint he was working on, though an irritated look was evident on his face. 

“Dumbest thing I've heard all day.” 

“So that's a no, Senku?” 

“Tch, idiots. Use your brains for once.” 

That unfortunately didn't answer anything. However, everyone seemed to be too interested and eager in the conversation. 

“So is it someone's?” A student from a corner asked. 

Senku finally looked up from his blueprint, clicking the roof of his tongue. “Obviously. Why would I use one when my hair defies gravity and is never in the way?” 

The room went silent before, 

“OHHHH?” 

“No way?!” 

Senku looked far more annoyed after hearing their reactions, which, unfortunately, only encouraged everyone further. 

“It's basic efficiency." He deadpanned. “Unlike you idiots, I account for predictable patterns to avoid unnecessary situations.” 

Then, the doors of the science laboratory suddenly opened. 

“Senku?” Your voice cut through the room of chaos, completely unaware of the chaos you've interrupted and caused. 

Everyone turned to the door, not just Senku. 

You blinked, feeling uncomfortable at the unexpected attention from everyone. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?” 

“No reason,” half of the room replied in unison before pretending to focus on their work again. 

You frowned suspiciously, eyes settled on Senku as your facial expression asked him questions. He didn't say anything, just stared back as you walked towards him. 

You stopped next to him and allowed the suspicion to simmer down as you remembered the reason you were there. “Do you have a hair tie?” 

Without saying a word, he lifted his wrist toward you, as if by muscle memory. Your fingers moved automatically and reached out for it. 

“Lost another one? You're too careless, idiot.” 

You ignored his remark, and with one smooth motion, you slid it off his wrist before tying your hair with practiced ease.

“Thanks, Sen.” You gave him a grin. “I'll see you after school.” 

“Hm.” 

Senku returned to his blueprint without saying anything else the moment you left. 

The room stayed silent for three seconds after you closed the door behind you before erupting into chaos once more. 

“What was that?!” 

“I knew it was her!” 

Senku ignored their loud chaos, his hand already reaching out for the pocket of his pants, and pulled out another hair tie, slipping it onto his wrist. 

“Tch, you people are seriously annoying.” 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You never questioned Senku's acts of science. Never. Not even when Yuzuriha’s teasing became a little too frequent. 

It was normal; you were used to it for years. Why bother to question it now?

The sound of rain suddenly falling from the skies sliced through your reverie. You halted, staring at the building window next to the staircase, before a groan escaped from your lips. 

“Great. Just great.” You had forgotten your umbrella. Although you always forget to bring it, this time was different. You had asked Senku to go home without waiting for you. The same guy who never forgets to bring an umbrella and checks the weather forecast. 

You made your way down the stairs, and your mood was a perfect match with the gloomy weather outside. 

“Took you long enough.” 

Your head snapped up toward the familiar voice, and your gaze immediately landed on him, Senku. One hand in his pocket while leaning against a wall near the staircase.

Your mouth fell open in shock. “Sen—?! What are you doing here?!” 

“I was waiting for you, what else?” He answered casually. Too casually, as if you didn't ask him not to wait for you. 

He walked closer to you, his lab coat hanging on one shoulder while his bag hung on the other. An umbrella settled on one of his hands. 

“I told you not to wait!” 

“And?” 

“It's raining, and it's late!” 

“Yeah, no kidding. I'm not blind.” 

Without waiting for your response, he threw the lab coat on your shoulder, catching you off guard again. “Wear it, you'll get cold if you don't.” 

You frowned, yet slipped on his lab coat. “You should've gone home.” 

“Yeah, and leave you here with a 10 billion percent chance of being stranded? You never bring an umbrella or check the weather forecast, idiot.” His tone was completely matter-of-fact, like the answer should've been obvious.

He watched as you struggled with the sleeves. He clicked the roof of his tongue before walking closer, hands already hovering over yours. 

“You're hopeless.” He spoke with a tone that was softer than before. Then, with quick, efficient movements, his hands adjusted the sleeves and collar of his lab coat. 

Your breath got caught in your throat for a brief moment because of the proximity. “You really didn't have to wait for me, y’know?” Your voice sounded small.

“You get sick too easily. You have the immune system of a Victorian child.” The tone of his voice remained soft as he buttoned the coat properly, ensuring it was secured around your body. 

You laughed at the last part, eyes admiring the way his hands moved with the same precision he had when working on an experiment. 

He took a step back after he was done. "Besides, Byakuya would never let me hear the end of it if he found out I left without you.” 

You grinned, already hooking your arm with his. “Yeah, he would probably say he raised you better than that. Let's go home, Sen.” 

That evening, the two of you walked home through the wet streets and drizzling rain. Yet you remained dry. Senku's lab coat protected you from the raindrops as well as the umbrella he held tightly above the two of you. 

You never said anything regarding the proximity or the gesture. You were used to him acting like this. It was normal in your vocabulary. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Your mother's loud knocking on your bedroom door finally woke you up from your slumber. 

“Aren't you hanging out with Senku today? Why are you still sleeping?” She asked as she entered your room, eyeing your sleepy figure, who had just woken up.

“Hang out with Senku…?” 

Your eyes shot open in realization. You were supposed to help Senku purchase an engine component for his new rocket model today.

You immediately got out of bed, nearly tripping over your blanket, and ran straight to the shower, one of your hands grabbing your towel on the way there. 

“Be careful!” Your mother yelled out of concern.

After a shower, you scrambled to get ready. Your clothes were everywhere after you forgot to prepare an outfit the night before. After selecting one, you searched for a pair of socks before rushing downstairs. 

“Senku's already outside.” Your mother said as she watched you hastily put on your socks, hands already reaching out for your sneakers. 

You bid your mother goodbye, already making it past the front door. Your eyes spot Senku, who was waiting for you. 

He turned right before your hands fell to your knees for support, panting and out of breath after you practically ran while getting ready. 

“You should consider using an alarm.” His voice was laced with amusement as he knelt down, hands already reaching out to tie your shoelaces. 

“You could've tripped over your shoelaces again.” 

Your heart skipping a beat didn't help you at all. It was normal, you swore to yourself. He fixes your shoelaces all the time. It was just efficient.

Your breathing finally returned to normal. “I did, I slept through it.” 

He chuckled before standing up, hand reaching out to flick your forehead. “Idiot, did you sleep late again?” 

You raised a brow, hitting him playfully. “You're one to talk, genius.” 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Senku's experiments were a constant source of fascination. You were always interested and could hardly take your eyes away whenever he was mixing his colorful array of chemicals in the lab.

“You're too close,” he said, voice edged with concern.

“Huh?”You replied, momentarily distracted.

Before you could process his warning any further, you felt Senku's hand grab your wrist, pulling you behind him right before the Erlenmeyer flask erupted,  bubbles frothing violently at the surface.

Your eyes widened in curiosity as you peeked from behind him. “Whoa,” 

His grip never left yours, never loosened; it remained steady around your wrist.  “Exactly why I told you not to stand too close.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “You say that every single time, Sen.” 

“And you're stubborn every single time.” He countered back, his grip tightening around your wrist, ensuring you wouldn’t inch any closer.

His grip felt firm, protective, and undeniably comforting. It felt like a silent assurance that you were safe in his presence. You didn't question it; after all, Senku always did things like that, didn't he?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

One of the perks of living near Senku meant you could always crash at his place, and Byakuya allowed you to do so. Especially whenever he's busy training to be an astronaut on the other side of the world. 

The living room of the Ishigami household was lit by the television screen across you, as well as the faint light coming from the windows. Senku's presence was near and grounding as the two of you watched another move that you picked, of course.

You didn't realize you were crying—not at first. The dialogues bled with a soundtrack that was clearly designed to hurt you slowly. 

Beside you, Senku exhaled through his nose. He couldn't comprehend why you kept choosing movies that clearly tugged at your heartstrings.

“Statistically speaking, you've chosen emotional damage 6 times in a row.” He spoke, voice flat as he stared at the screen with a look of boredom. He wouldn't be watching these movies if it weren't for you.

“Shut up, Sen.” You laughed through your flowing tears. Your voice was shaky as the soundtrack was starting to affect you harder. 

That was when he finally looked at you, a frown appearing on his face as he saw the tears streaming down, your hands already hovering above your eyes to rub them. 

You were crying again. Rubbing your eyes on top of that, too. 

“Stop doing that.” He said immediately, tone firm.

You blinked, “Huh?” 

“Tch,” his hands reached out, pulling yours away from your face before you could even process it. His grip was gentle, quick, and precise. 

“You’re going to irritate your corneas if you keep rubbing your eyes,” he continued, as if a doctor was scolding their patient. “Damage delicate blood vessels, make the inflammation worse— do you want me to continue?” 

He warned, and you shook your head. “I'm just—” 

“Crying and rubbing your eyes.” He finished for you, clearly unimpressed. 

His hands never released your wrists. With a sigh, he pulled them down gently. “Why do you always choose movies that do this to you? It's stupid.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to argue and defend your choices. “It's part of the experience, Senku.” 

“Yeah, right, I believe you,” he mocked softly. 

He shifted closer, hands releasing your wrists. And with the same irritating precision he used for everything else, he reached out for your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumbs. 

His touch was careful, almost too careful. As if it were another adjustment made to a system that had slightly fallen out of equilibrium. 

“The movie wasn't even great,” he muttered, yet his thumb didn't stop. “Crying over a predictable plot outcome?” 

You glared at him with angry tears, yet he smiled in return as you lunged to attack him. 

“Stop watching them with me if you're only going to judge me, you menace!” 

His chuckle filtered the dialogue from the movie, letting you tug at his hair all you want. 

“Who will stop you from damaging your eyes if I stopped?” He countered casually—too casually, as if it was a natural response. 

You halted, your hands frozen in his hair for a moment before he gently pried them away. 

“What?” He asked, red eyes already staring into yours, the light from the window behind you reflecting on it. “You're acting like I don't do it often.” 

Right. He does. He does it so often that it has always felt natural. And somewhere along the way, you stopped noticing it entirely. Perhaps you’ve noticed, yet dismissed the thoughts. Never allowing yourself to look further into what those actions actually meant.

Because it was Senku. 

Senku Ishigami, the genius who treats inconveniences as problems to solve for the sake of efficiency. However, he was also the boy who remembered things nobody else did. 

And still, despite everything, you never called it anything else. It was just Senku's acts of science. You chose to dismiss the feeling of your chest tightening painfully as the realization was coming closer. 

No, it was just his acts of science, right?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Wrong. 

You were wrong, utterly wrong. Or at least you thought so, as the realization refused to be dismissed any further after being buried from years of excuses, the familiarity of routines, and the comfort that you understood Senku's nature. 

Because that was easier. It was easier than confronting the terrifying realization that maybe everyone else had been right all along. 

Perhaps it was never purely about science. Maybe it wasn't just about efficiency, logic, or the fact that Senku disliked being unable to solve inconveniences. 

Maybe—

Your breath got caught in your throat again, between your tempting realization and the reflex to push it down. The thought settled painfully; it felt almost impossible to make it go away. 

Your memories weren't much help either, as they replayed endlessly without permission, refusing to stay harmless. 

The reminders, the way he noticed things before you did, the way he was always prepared for your inconveniences as if he had already calculated them, the way he always remembered. 

The realization was everywhere, taunting you dangerously. You could see it in everything you dismissed as his acts of science.

Which was why the sight of the small metal tube of lip stain on your hands felt almost unbearable as it weighed and catalyzed your realization. 

“Try it already,” Senku spoke from his desk chair across from you, who sat on his bed, your usual spot. He sounded mildly annoyed at your silence. 

You couldn't really blame him. You've been silent for too long, buried in your thoughts that refused to go quiet. 

It was almost funny, really. A lip stain was all it took to catalyze your realization. However, it wasn't just any lip stain. It was a replica of the one that you've been searching for endlessly for the past few weeks. 

The same lip stain you cried over with embarrassing levels of devastation after losing it, especially since it was discontinued everywhere. You could recall the countless times you brought it up whenever you were with Senku. How the shade was your favorite since it suited you so well, and how you couldn't find any alternatives. 

“You…made this?” You spoke out softly, finally finding your voice again.

He clicked the roof of his tongue. “Yeah? Why are you acting so surprised as if I hadn't made things before?” 

Your eyes refused to leave the lip stain in your hands. The metal surface felt cool against your fingers. You noticed the engraving of your name on the packaging, which wasn't like the packaging of your previous lip stain with stickers that wore out easily after a few uses.

You heard the wheels of his desk chair roll closer towards you. “I changed the packaging since you always complained about the lettering wearing off easily.” 

“How did you remember the shade?” You looked up at him, and your eyes immediately met his again. He was already looking at you. 

He gave you his signature laugh. “That was the hard part. Learning cosmetology was 10 billion percent easier. I had to rely on information and pictures online, as well as yours.” 

“I would've finished it within a week if you had tested out the shade samples yourself.” He smirked, “Byakuya kept whining that it'd ruin the surprise.” 

You tilted your head, “Byakuya knew about this?” 

“Of course. He caught me watching a cosmetology crash course at 2 AM.” 

You found yourself laughing at his response. Your grin was wide, so wide that it made your cheeks hurt. You were genuinely so happy.

You kept smiling even when you were no longer laughing. Senku raised a brow, mirroring the previous tilt of your head. “What?” 

“You're—” your grin appeared again, your cheeks were really starting to hurt. “You're so sweet, Sen.” 

He paused in disbelief. “Hah? What are you talking about—” 

Your sudden hug caught him off guard, and your added weight pushed the desk chair backward slightly. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand still gripping the lip stain tightly. 

“Thank you, Sen. Seriously, I don't know how to thank you enough.” 

He clicked the roof of his tongue again, acting annoyed, yet the smile on his face said otherwise. As well as his hand that steadied you against him, returning the hug. 

“You can thank me by actually trying it. How else am I supposed to know I got the shade right?” 

The grin on your face remained as you pulled away. “Okay,” your voice became strangely soft. 

You were about to use your phone screen as a mirror when Senku reached out to grab the lip stain from you. “It has a built-in mirror. Less hassle.” 

You stared at him in awe. “Oh my gosh, you really considered the design of the packaging.” 

He shrugged, handing the lip stain back to you. “The original design was inefficient. You would need a separate mirror each time.” 

He didn't say anything else as he watched you apply it to your lips. A satisfied smile formed on your face, and Senku nearly exhaled in relief. He didn't fail; he succeeded in reviving your favorite lip stain. 

Your eyes shifted to meet his again, your smile refusing to leave your face. “How do I look, Sen?” 

He paused for a second, “The same but with a different shade of lip color.” 

You gasped and hit him playfully. “How rude! You learned cosmetology but not about how to compliment a girl?” 

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Why would I waste my time with the latter?”

You rolled your eyes before admiring the shade with the built-in mirror. “You could at least say I look prettier.” 

“You always do,” he responded too quickly, without any hesitation in the tone of his voice. It was too straightforward, as if he were reciting a fact.

You short-circuit for a few seconds, cheeks burning up slightly as you look away.

“You're really amazing, Sen...” You mumbled, admiring his creation while trying to ignore the warmth from your cheeks.

“Yeah?” A quiet chuckle escaped from him. 

“I've built rockets, and this is what impressed you the most?” He added, a teasing grin on his face. 

“Well, this one is the most unexpected thing you would do, y’know?” 

He shook his head with another chuckle. “You're welcome.” He moved himself using his chair, a hand reaching for a notebook on his desk. “I haven't tested the transfer resistance yet, but it stains better than the original.” 

“Why not?” 

“Do you expect me to wear it?” 

You laughed out loud, “Wouldn't you do it for science?”

“Nice joke.” He deadpanned. “I did it for you, not for science, idiot.” 

Somehow, that confession hit harder than anything else. 

“The Senku Ishigami is doing something that isn't for science? Is the world meeting its doom soon?” you joked mockingly. 

“That's worse than the previous one.” He deadpanned again. 

You giggled, hands reaching out to pull his chair closer to you, a mischievous idea had already appeared in your head just seconds ago. 

“What are you doing?” 

You didn't answer. Instead, you tugged his head down, closer to your face. With a swift motion, you pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. 

You pulled away, satisfied with your results. There was a clear mark from the gloss, yet no pigment. The only pigment you found was the burning ears of Senku, dusted with a faint red. 

“Results concluded, it's transfer proof.” You grinned at his frozen state. “You can log the results in your notebook now.” 

A teasing smirk formed on your face as you eyed his silent and flustered figure. “You good, Sen?” 

“Yeah…” he muttered out after snapping out of his frozen state, voice low as he turned away from you to reach for a pen. 

Oh, you were savoring every moment. That was your payback after he made you spiral over his acts of science.

Perhaps the two of you wouldn't talk about it further for now. However, you were—as Senku would say it—10 billion percent sure there's time for that in the future. 

For now, you'll mainly appreciate his acts of science, or his way of showing that he cared far more than you thought. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Bonus:

“Where did you learn how to make cosmetics, Senku-chan?” Gen’s curious question hung in the air, capturing Senku's attention. 

The scene unfolded in front of the two of them, along with Suika and Soyuz, who were gathered around Amaryllis and you. Together, you were meticulously applying makeup on Kohaku’s face in preparation for the selection. 

“It's chemistry, mentalist.” His gaze briefly flickered towards Gen and deadpanned. 

Gen sweat dropped. “Yes, but I never expected you to touch that part of chemistry, Senku-chan…” 

The scientist shrugged, dismissing the comment. And before Gen could question him further, you suddenly walked to Senku with a bright grin on your face. 

“Sen, can you make my lip stain again? I've been missing it lately.” Your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, something Senku could never say no to.

‘Ah.’ Gen's question had been answered the moment the words fell from your lips. The mentalist wasn't even surprised anymore. ‘So this is the so-called acts of science Yuzuriha-chan was talking about.’

It seems the only time Mikey Way ever speaks up in interviews is to drag your band. The "shy", soft-spoken Mikey Way, who seems to have such heated opinions on not just your band, but you as well. Usually, My Chemical Romance tries not to start feuds within their scene, and they also don't condone Mikey's sentiments; nevertheless, the Way always seems to find a way to make some sort of derogatory comment. You used to rack your mind, wondering if you've done anything to offend Mikey or his band, but every time, you came up short. You had no idea what sparked these intense opinions, other than the thought that he just genuinely dislikes you and your band's work.

Fans attribute this intense hatred to your seemingly overnight success. Many speculate that Mikey is only bitter because his own band had to produce several albums to get to their realm of fame, while yours only needed a couple singles to achieve your global stature. Some fans even hypothesize that Mikey's resentment is partially fueled by him being overcast by his brother's shadow, with him being only a bassist and Gerard being the band's frontman.

No matter the reason, you hated Mikey Way.

And you, like everyone else, thought he hated you too.

-

"Mikey, you seriously have to stop with all the shit you're saying abo-"

"What's wrong with having my own opinions?" Mikey interrupted Ray.

The whole band was sitting in the tour bus, driving to the next city. Frank threw a pillow at them from his bunk, but sorely missed. "I'm trying to sleep, just shut up," he mumbled groggily. Mikey rolled his eyes, but obliged. Lowering his voice, he continued, "I'm just saying, their music has no substance. Give the band another year, and they'll all be sellouts." Ray sighed. "They made it to Warped Tour within the same year as their debut album. They're genuises!" he defended the band. Mikey scoffed, "They're mircales, is what." He glanced at Gerard, who was haphazardly rummaging the cabinets for food; a bad idea to not be seated on a moving vehicle. "Besides," Mikey started again, "it's not like they beat your work," he said, aiming to his brother. Gerard didn't even bother to turn to face him, "Mikey, just 'cause you're complimenting me doesn't mean I don't think your shit-talking is-" Mikey threw his hands up in defeat, getting up from the couch. "Alright, fine! I think I'll just go take a nap like Frank…" he said, tired of the conversation as he walked to his bunk. Gerard and Ray exchanged a look, but said nothing. They didn't want to upset their bandmate, but they also didn't want to apprve of his actions.

Lying in his bunk, Mikey drew the curtains for privacy. It was a small space; he was barely able to fit in it, but it was good enough. Besides, after years of touring, he'd gotten used to his temporarily cramped living conditions. He hated that his bandmates wouldn't agree with him, almost as much as he hated you and your band. He hated your fans with they way they idolized you. He hated your producers for letting you published the slop that you called music.

But his hate had been misplaced long ago, and it had quickly turned into an obsession.

Mikey pulled out his phone — the one he'd gotten just months before the tour — and his earbuds. His phone model was new enough to run videos, and God, was he grateful for that. In the privacy of his bunk, Mikey watched your band's newest music video. It wasn't techinically new, since the video had been out since the release of your guys' album, but it was the latest one you had produced, and it had become a daily ritual for Mikey to watch it on repeat. Despite the act he kept up in public, Mikey was one of (possibly the) biggest fan of not just your band, but of you as well. Though he'd never admit it, not even to himself.

He even kept a photo of you in his wallet. He told himself it was just to remind him of the bitch you were; you in the middle of a stage, mouth agape as you sang along to your band's lyrics, stagelights casting you in a mesmerising glow, and your outfit perfectly tailored to fit your form and tease your fans with its exposing nature. The source of the photo? Fansites he found on the internet. Hell, Mikey had even founded a few of the sites. There were well over a dozen, and a fraction of those were his own creation. He made them with the intention that embarassing photos would be posted on them; his goal to make you appear unattractive. However, every website he made ended up doing the opposite of what it was originally created to do. Each site seemed to have a purpose, but Mikey's favorite — and he'd never admit it — was the one dedicated to "leaked" photos. Of course, you were very conservative about what was posted about you online, so the leaked photos mainly consisted of poorly-taken fan-paparazzi clips that were mainly just backstage shots. Though, there were a handful of more intimate ones, but even those were just images of you enjoying the pools of hotels you've stayed at during tours. The pictures seemed as though they consisted of about 20 pixels, but Mikey enjoyed them anyway.

When the internet wasn't enough, Mikey utilized the proximity that Warped Tour allowed him to have to you. He'd often times consider sneaking into your dressing room and stealing something, and he came close, but he'd always freeze up whenever he actually tried to. Still, that didn't stop him from passing by as often as he could, and as discreetly as possible. Sometimes, he'd slip packs of cigarettes under the door as a gift, then when he found you smoking them, he'd give you some crap about how, "No wonder why your vocals are so shit…" or, "Fuckin' junkie…" or, "Way to set an example for your fans…" and the list goes on. You'd always exhale right in his face just to piss him off, but little did you know he enjoyed it.

He loved toying with you, he just wished it was real. He loved the way you'd shoulder-check him whenever you passed by. He loved the way you scoffed at the mention of his name. He loved the look you gave him when you were made to interact with him. But even with all your petty retaliations, you never took a jab at him during your own interviews.

Yet he wished you did.

Perhaps it was because you were part of a relatively new band, while Mikey's had been around for years. Perhaps you were afraid of his crazed fanbase, and the possibility of your miraculous success slipping through your fingers in an instant. Or perhaps you were kind enough to spare him. Or perhaps you didn't care at all.

That's why Mikey did the shit he did. He wanted you to care, even if it meant you hating him. He really did hate you, at least in the beginning. He didn't know what had changed or why, so he tried to get back to his hatred through nasty comments and petty insults. Still, his obsession wouldn't waiver, and now his hate-fueled jabs are motivated by his want to get attention from you.

The tour bus was quiet. Mikey assumed that his bandmates were distracted enough for him to continue his personal activities. After binging all of your band's videos, he went to his fansites. He studied each photo like a museum curator. Mikey stared at his screen, especially admiring how passionate you were when you played. He could only imagine the intensity you'd give during sex. God, how he wished he could fuck you.

Under his sheets, he palmed himself through his jeans. He let out a shaky breath, holding back his moans. Breathing was fine, since he knew the rest of the band would just assume he was dreaming. He imagined showing you just how much he "hated" you, fucking into you deep and rough, making you squirm and writhe beneath him. He'd pin you down, his body flush against yours as he thrusted relentlessly. He wouldn't let up, forcing multiple orgasms out of the both of you. By now, Mikey started to grind his clothed erection against his hand, pretending it was your cunt instead. He wanted to see you without the flashy outfits and glamorous stage makeup; he wanted to fuck every thought of anything else except him out of your mind.

Mikey was getting too eager, and his breathing was beginning to become labored. He forced himself to stop. He couldn't risk getting caught. Usually he didn't really care if his bandmates accidentally walked in on him, he was sure they have before, but to see him jerking off to photos of the very person he so outspokenly hated? He wouldn't be able to explain that one. Mikey begreduingly pulled his hand away from his crotch. He let out a shuddering sigh, dropping his head against the pillow. He checked the time on his phone; there was still a good amount of time before the party tonight. He decided to actually take a nap. He was pretty tired from last night's performance, after all.

-

After waking up, Mikey groped around his sheets to find his phone. He held it to his face, the bright screen practically inscinerating his retinas. He blinked, adjusting to the light. Reading the time, he realized it was the early evening. Just as he was getting up, Gerard flung open the curtain of his bunk. Mikey sheilded his eyes from the fluorescent tour bus lights. "Looks like someone's finally awake," Gerard teased. Mikey grumbled, still too groggy to form a response. He crawled out of his bunk; Gerard stepped aside to give his younger brother some room. He looked him up and down, sighing, "You didn't seriously sleep in those clothes…" It was a question, but he had said it as more of a statement. Mikey stretched, "What? I'm gonna wear this to the party anyway." Gerard rolled his eyes, "At least do your hair or something." Mikey was already walking towards the "living room" of the bus, crouching in front of a propped-up mirror. "I always straighten my hair."

There was a party that night at a nearby venue. It was some run-down punk show place, and a few local bands were playing. Technically, it wasn't a party; all the Warped Tour bands just bought all the tickets to the show, but hey, at least they were supporting local scenes. Besides, there was booze, and that was practically all anyone's criteria for a party was anyway. The bands playing, of course, had been informed of their guest list that night so that they wouldn't be shell-shocked at the fact that pop-punk royalty was attending their show.

Mikey ran his straightener through his hair, flattening his bands to his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Frank doing his makeup, or at least what was Frank's definition of doing makeup. He essentially just gathered a bunch of red and black eyeshadow in his fingers, smudged it around his face, and called it a day. Not that Mikey judged. Plus, the fans were into it, and that's really all any performer needed. After an hour or so, the whole band was ready to go to the venue. They rented a cheap SUV to use as their transportation there and back. After all, it was kind of hard to be discreet if they chose to just drive around in the tour bus instead. Mikey didn't know how, but he ended up with the keys once they all got to the location.

Stepping into the venue, Mikey was immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and a fog of nicotine. The setting reminded him of his days of playing at underground spots in Jersey, and it made him somewhat nostalgic. Music was already blaring, the lyrics unintelligible with the vocalist's shrill screams. The only thing that could make this night better was sex. He didn't know why, but something about shows like this always got Mikey in the mood. Maybe because it reminded him of how he always slept around in Jersey. It probably was because of that. Nevertheless, Mikey didn't mind. He spotted cups of beer splayed out on a table. He downed one, then made his way into the center of the pit.

The night was a blur. Between drinks and getting thrown around in the pit, hours felt like minutes. He ditched his earlier plan of trying to find someone to hook up with. Deciding to take a much-needed break, Mikey wove his way through a sea of people to get to the door. He wasn't planning on leaving, but it had been a while since he'd had a time like this, and he needed some fresh air.

Outside the show room, the noise died down immediately. The cool, night air was a good contrast to the sticky humidity of the venue. Mikey let out a relaxed sigh. However, his tranquility was only temporary. From around the corner, Mikey could hear faint sides of someone hurling. Usually, he couldn't care less about other people's business. Besides, it'd be unsafe to go wandering down a dark alleyway in an unfamiliar place. Nevertheless, Mikey's curiosity got the best of him; perhaps the alcohol was hindering his critical thinking skills. Mikey walked into the darkness, the faint glow of the street lamp becoming more distant with each step.

Rounding the corner, Mikey found someone leaned over a dumpster, retching their guts out. Their messy hair concealed their face, and Mikey couldn't help but worry that they were puking into their hair. The dim lightning and Mikey's drunkly obscured vision added to the anonymity of the individual, and Mikey found himself drawn to them. Mikey knew he shouldn't be approaching strangers in foreign cities at night, especially while drunk, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was familiar. Stepping closer, Mikey finally got a good look at them. He gasped, his pulse freezing momentarily

It was you.

"Y/n…?" He let out a chuckle of disbelief as he continued towards you, though his walk was more of a hobble due to his intoxicated state. You painstakingly lifted your head to look at him, grumbling. "Mikey…" you sneered. He laughed again.

"So, you're a lightweight, huh?"

"I'm not in the fucking mood right now." You looked into the garbage again, gagging, but nothing came out this time. You let out a sigh, heaving. You were still panting from your earlier vomitting.

Mikey tsked, shaking his head. "You should tie your hair back," he advised.

"Just leave me alone." Your words were meant to be snappy, but they came out weaker than you intended. You couldn't help it. You threw up again.

Without thinking, Mikey practically ran to you. His fingers combed through your hair, holding it back, making sure none of your fringe got anywhere near your mouth. His attitude had suddenly dropped. He rubbed your back with his other hand.

"I don't need your help…" you said, defeatedly. He sighed.

"Are you done yet, or is there more?" His voice still had an attitude to it, but even with your druken state, you could detect something else in his tone.

You coughed, sputtering momentarily before spitting into the garbage. You slowly lifted yourself up, Mikey's hand still remaining on your back to help steady you. You wiped your mouth. "I-I'm fine," your voice cracked slightly, your throat worn from all the gagging and whatnot. You tried to walk away, but Mikey held onto your wrist. "You can't go back in there."

You shot him a look, "I can make my own decisions." Still, he held onto you. He rolled his eyes. "You're performing tomorrow. You're just gonna kill yourself if you decided to start moshing or drink your brains out again." You tore your wrist from his grasp, but remained in your place. "Just-" you let out an exasperated sigh. You were going to tell him to shut up, but a part of you felt bad for being so bitchy after he had just helped you hurl your guts out. "Why do you care anyway?"

Mikey grumbled. "Follow me." You scoffed, crossing your arms, but you found yourself trailing behind him anway. What else could you have done? You're helplessly drunk, and in desperate need of another place that isn't a punk show.

-

Mikey was eternally grateful that he was somehow lucky enough to be given car key responsibility for the night. He held open the door of the rental SUV as you climbed into the backseat. What were you doing? Getting into the car of the man you loathe… Were you seriously this out of it? Mikey climbed in after you, closing the door behind him. He turned on the car's overhead light and reached past the passenger seat to grab a waterbottle from the cup holder; it was unopened, thankfully. He offered it to you, and you took it. For a brief moment you worried that it was spiked and he was gonna drug you and kill you right then and there, but then you remembered the water was new. You held it to your lips and practically chugged the thing. You'd never felt more relieved in your life. Just as you were getting your fill, Mikey grabbed the water from you.

"Hey! What are you-"

"You'll cramp," he said, not even looking up at you as he fastened the plastic lid to the bottle. "I don't want you throwing up again. This thing's a rental-" He finally looked up.

You watched his expression as he examined your face. You could usually read people, but you were still quite drunk, making you less perceptive than normal. You furrowed your brows, feeling quite defensive now. "I know. I'm not wearing all that heavy stage makeup. Yeah, whatever, I look like sh-"

"I like it."

Your eyes snapped to his. He was staring straight at you. "I think you look better like this anyway." You opened your mouth to make some sort of snarky remark, but nothing came out. "Not that you'd look bad in anything, anyway," he added.

You blinked, dumbfounded. Were you dreaming? How much did you drink? There's no way this was real… Maybe you threw up so hard you passed out. There's no way Mikey Way is saying this about you. He hated you. You hated him.

Then suddenly your mouth was on his. You didn't even know who started the kiss. You heard the half-empty waterbottle clatter onto the car floor as Mikey's hands tangled into your hair. His tongue entered your mouth, seemingly not caring that you had thrown up just moments earlier. He leaned into the kiss, delving into you deeper and rougher. Eventually, you ended up looking up at him as you laid in the backseat. Your hands were around his neck; he pulled back to catch his breath, his glasses were slightly fogged up.

He kneeled above you, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He then helped you get yours off as well. Once your torso was bare, he eyed it, tracing your skin with his long, slender fingers. You shivered, you weren't typically this sensitive. Perhaps the alcohol was heightening your senses, although you could feel yourself sobering up. Perhaps Mikey just had a different effect on you…

Mikey lowered his head into your neck, his tongue lapping at your skin before nipping it gently with his teeth. You let out a gasp. His hands kneaded your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers. Once he's had enough of the foreplay, Mikey works at your bottoms, unbuttoning and unzipping them before you lift your hips to help him peel them off of you. He treasures the sight in front of him, grazing his hands along your sides as he looks over your exposed flesh. He slips a hand under the waistband of your undergarments, stroking your wetness. You let out a shaky breath. His lips connect to yours again as he slips a finger in. You moan into his mouth. He swallows your sweet sounds down his throat as his finger twists inside of you.

After enough teasing, Mikey slides a second finger in. He presses his mouth harder onto yours, muffling your whimpers as his fingers curl into you perfectly, making you see stars. Mikey buries his hand knuckles-deep into you. You squeeze your eyes shut, writhing in pleasure beneath him. You could feel him chuckle into your mouth sadistically as he kissed you, amused by the effect he's having on you.

Eventually, Mikey can't take the constraint of the fabric anymore. He hooks his fingers into the waistband, glancing at your face as a silent ask of permission. Obediently, you lift your hips, allowing him to slide the pair down to your ankles, then tossing them onto the car floor with the rest of your clothes. Mikey's eyes rake over your now fully nude body. His fingers trace your wet heat at an agonizingly slow pace, circling around your core and gently scraping your skin. Mikey scooted back in the cramped space of the car, positioning his head between your legs. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, softly grabbing your thighs. He planted soft, wet kisses on your inner thighs, eliciting a contented sigh out of you. Your heart raced in arousal and anticipation as Mikey's kisses trailed upwards. Once his mouth reached your center, he stuck out his tongue, slowly dragging it along your form, tasting your salty warmth.

You let out a whine, instinctively arching your back. Your hands, searching for some sort of stability, found their way to the back of Mikey's head; your fingers combed through his straightened hair. Mikey looked up at you through his grown-out bangs, pleased by how sensitive you were. His hands dug into your thighs further as he continued lapping you up. His tongue found its way to your most sensitive spot. You moaned as he swirled you around in his mouth. He nipped at you gently, not enough to hurt you, but enough to send shockwaves through your body. You twitched and whimpered at the sensation. Any pain he caused you was quickly replaced with pleasure as he soothed the area with a tender kiss before licking it gently again.

Mikey doubled his efforts, wet noises coming from your bottom half as he ate you more vigorously than before. His pace quickened, becoming borderline relentless. Your thighs clamped around the sides of his head, your hands grabbing his hair tightly as you attempted to ground yourself. Your reaction only spurred him on further. He let out a low groan as you tugged at his hair, the sound sending vibrations through you that made you suck air in through your teeth. You squirmed beneath him, utterly helpless from just his mouth. You felt your orgasm drawing closer, and Mikey was aware of this. Your chest was heaving, your desperate cries of ecstasy growing higher in pitch with each passing moment. Just as you were about to cum, Mikey suddenly stopped, removing his face from between your legs.

You looked up at him with a reddened face and teary eyes, confused, dazed, and eager for more. He grinned at your expression. "I know what you need," he spoke up, already imagining just how thoroughly he'd fuck you. "But I needed you to absolutely want it first."

You blinked, registering his words. Slowly, the reality of his implications set in. Mikey worked on undoing his belt. "Come on. Speak up," he demanded coldly, masking his excitement. "Unless…" he paused, letting the sight of his half undone belt linger, "…you don't really want it."

God, you really did hate this man, but you need to cum more. You knew he was just teasing you, but before you could think, you opened your mouth.

"No- Wait." Your voice was worn from your earlier moans, making it slightly raspy. You swallowed hard, partially to prepare yourself for the bullshit you were gonna spew next, and partially as an attempt to moisten your dry throat. "Don't stop."

Mikey raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. You knew you were exactly where he wanted you, but you also knew he was just as desperate as you are. You didn't even need to look down to see his growing boner, which was visible from just your peripheral vision.

"That's no way to properly ask, is it?" Mikey taunted.

You opened your mouth to continue, then grumbled, annoyed at Mikey for acting hard-to-get, and annoyed at yourself for playing into it. Still, you couldn't deny the growing wetness between your legs. You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath. "Please just…" you started, your eyes flickered to and from his face, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. "I need you. Right now." Your tone was defeated, but also pleading. Admittedly, Mikey expected more from you, but he wasn't stupid enough to push it. He took what he could get, though he continued with his egotistical bit.

"So fucking stubborn, you know that?" He said, smiling down at you. You scowled at him. He scoffed, amused that you had the guts to act like he wasn't about to pound your brains out.

"I'm gonna fuck the bitch right out of you."

With that, his pants and belt flew to the floor, but not before he grabbed a condom out of his pocket. You made a mental note to give him shit later about having a condom on standby. Though, you did appreciate his efforts to preserve the health and well-being of the both of you. After rolling the protection on, Mikey wasted no time. With his hands steadying you at your hips, he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you. Unaccustomed to his size, you let out a sharp gasp, slightly wincing. A flicker of worry crossed his face, ironic to his earlier dominant and uncaring persona. You could tell he was being gentle, because he was letting you adjust to his length as he eased the rest of himself in, not going fully balls-deep yet. Mikey rocked his hips back and forth, fucking you rather timidly for someone who claimed to despise every fiber of your being. A light blush formed on his face, his mouth hanging agape as his breathing grew slightly ragged. Your hands rested near your head, your fingers clawing into the seat cushion beneath you. You were still tender from Mikey's earlier teasing, making you more sensitive than you usually would be. Still, you were being stubborn, so you tried to stifle your moans. However, your attempts were futile, as they came out as whimpers instead. Your noises motivated Mikey, who was eager to hear more. He was really in the mood now, and it seemed he would, in fact, hold up to his words.

Without warning, he thrusted fully into you. You immediately threw your head back, letting out a sound between a moan and a yelp. You couldn't see it through your rolled-back, half-lidded eyes, but Mikey was grinning smugly, enjoying your lewd reflex. He accelerated his pace, though still keeping a steady rhythm — which you would expect anyway, with him being a musician. In an attempt to get a deeper fuck, Mikey lowered himself to you, his arms on either side of your torso as he relied on his elbows for support. Sensing his shift in position, you forced your head back to normal to get a view of him. The two of you locked eyes, equally lost within pleasure. No words had to be spoken, both of you just enjoying each other's sounds: your desperate whines, Mikey's heated panting, and the sound of skin slapping as he rammed in and out of you.

Your arms found their way around Mikey. Your hands tugged at his hair like before, until you eventuallly dragged them down his bare back. Your right hand settled at the nape of his neck, your touch there making him shiver. Your left hand grazed over his spine, feeling it flex with every thrust he took into you.

You weren't exactly sure when, as the relentless stimulation for the past half hour had considerably disoriented you, but Mikey's pace picked up again. This time, even rougher than before. You were afraid you wouldn't be able to walk the next morning, much less perform. But any concerns you had quickly faded from the pure euphoria of Mikey's dick repeatedly stroking your spongey channel, hitting every spot that left you dizzy and needy. Sensing his own release soon approaching, Mikey's face dove down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He was determined to make you finish before he did. You craned your head, tilting it away to give him better access, moans continuing to spill out of your mouth.

Mikey's soft biting combined with his unwavering thrusts finally drew an orgasm out of you. It didn't take long for you to cum anyway, but when you did, it was intense. Your legs tensed, freezing then eventually kicking and squirming. Your back arched, your mouth open as it let out short gasps of breath mixed with desperate whines of pleasure. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling upwards then eventually fully closing as you convulsed around Mikey's dick. He never let up, drawing your release out for as long as possible. Eventually you came down from your high, your eyes fluttering open, your lungs gasping for oxygen.

Despite your intense unraveling, Mikey continued, ramming into you more intensely than ever. Your brow furrowed, your pleasure being turned into concern, and a slight sense of fear. "Mikey-" you whimpered out, your voice shaking. "What are you-"

"I'm not done," he panted out, his tone wavering slightly. Your nails raked his skin, surely leaving visible marks that neither of you could see at the moment. "I- I can't-" you muttered out breathelessly, tears of overstimulation beading in the corners of your eyes. Your earlier fear had once agan been replaced by ecstasy. You were twitching beneath Mikey now, your nails digging firmly into his shoulder blades. Mikey captured you in another searing kiss, though this time he was the one helplessly moaning. He pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips from him drooling from pleasure. He sucked a break in through his teeth, "Holy fuck, Y/n…"

Both of you were heavily breathing, each feeling your own orgasm appraoching. Though for you, this would be your second one. "Mikey, I-"

"I know, I know," he whispered to you, his voice breaking now. "I am too," he grunted out, as though it was straining him to speak.

His thrusts growing sloppy, Mikey's moans mixed with yours, creating a melody of pleasure in the now sex-scented rental car. Your noises grew higher, as Mikey's became louder by each breath he took. With a final, deep thrust, the both of you came together. Your legs squeezed Mikey's waist as he buried himself inside of you. Mikey lingered in his position momentarily, his eyes slamming shut before slowly blinking open again to gaze into yours. Thick ropes of cum gathered in his condom, though you could feel their warmth through the thin latex. Your own fluids coating the outside of it. Through his ragged breaths and spent moans, he rocked in and out of you lazily, easing the both of you from your orgasms.

Mikey collapsed on top of you, letting his dick remain inside of you until it softened. His forehead rested on your collarbone, and you could feel his warm, shallow breaths against your sweat-slicked skin. Your heaving chest caused his limp body to rise and fall to the pattern of your breathing. Your hands released their death grip on Mikey's skin, moving up to gently play with his hair. Moonlight peeked through the now fogged-up windows of the car, illuminating the scene within. Even with his face buried against you, you knew Mikey was smiling, and you were too.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

You drop your hips down, setting your clothed cunt right down on him, and his hips buck on instinct. You giggle around a moan, lashes batting down at him, and his hands flex as he swallows hard.

"I do like it. Fuckin' love it... but.." But what? What was he worrying about again? His girlfriend was grinding her hot little pussy down on him and he was wimping out? The fuck? He doesn't finish his sentence, instead stretching up to reconnect your lips to his.

You eagerly kiss him, tongue intertwining with his own, and his eyes flutter shut. Your lips are soft against his, softer than the thighs bracketing his hips, softer than the pussy that's continuously rocking back and forth against hi—oh fuuuuuck.

He breaks the kiss again, his foggy brain finally clearing enough for him to remember the very urgent matter. He's going to fucking cum. Right in his pants like the virgin he is.

"B-Bunny, wait. Forreal this time, I-I hafta—" You move your kisses down to his throat, and he hisses when you suck a mark over his bobbing Adams apple for everyone to see. Fuck yes. "Baby, please!" He doesn't know what he's begging for anymore, whatever concern he had once again lost in the midst of you, but you give it to him regardless, hips rolling and rocking and bouncing as if you're riding him — as if he's buried deep inside you, cock nestled in between your walls.

"Ohh fuck, Zanka!" You cry out as you sit up fully, your hands trailing up your front as you toss your head back. You're fully clothed save for your socks, but Zanka has seen you without clothes more than enough to know what's underneath that shirt and bra. He can envision your body clear as day, what it'd be like if this was the real thing — full tits bouncing with each move of your hips, nipples hard in his mouth, rounded ass gripped in his hands, pussy hole spread wide around the base of his cock. "Just like that - right there. Fuck me just like that." Oh, you're sick.

His teeth grit together, hands slapping down on your waist to catch you mid-bounce, and he thrusts his hips up, the both of you moaning in sync as your centers meet. Your own hands slap down on his chest, painted nails bunching up in his shirt and gripping hard, and the sight of the two of you fucking through your clothes is borderline disgusting. If all the blood in Zanka's brain hadn't rushed down to his engorged cock he might've been embarrassed, but all he can think about now is the wet spot over your shorts that seep through to his own pants and how he'll stuff the soiled fabric in his mouth later on when you're asleep in your room and he's got his dick in his hand.

His balls draw up, a tell-tale signal that he's about to blow his load, and as if you can smell it in the fucking air you grab his hands and put them on your chest, encouraging him to grope and squeeze at your tits as you rock back and forth, back and forth. Your lips are parted, eyes lidded, and you look like pure fucking sex - a million times sexier and hotter than the chicks in the dirty magazines stashed between his mattress and the wall.

He cums so hard that he sees black - it bleeds into the edges of his vision before overtaking it completely, and you kiss and pet at him until it comes back, bottom lip trapped in between your teeth as you watch him come back to this realm of existence.

You give him a sultry smile.

An Angel's Return

Tamsy Caines x Spherite!Reader

Synopsis: Tamsy takes a long awaited vacation to visit his beloved fiancée in the Sphere.

Tags: Established Relationship, fluff, Prince!Tamsy, Fem!reader, Fiancée!reader.

Word count: 1,317

"Alright, that sounds like a plan. I'll inform Semiu to account for your week's absence when planning the mission dispatches for the week." Corvus spoke, filing the papers Tamsy signed to officiate his leave.

"I appreciate the leniency given my short notice." The blonde stood, smoothing out his hair as he turned towards the door. "Try not to miss me too much," he let out an airy chuckle before sending a slight wave Corvus's way and walking out of his office.

Tamsy was feeling absolutely elated. Despite his calm expression, he was buzzing with anticipation. If anyone was analyzing the cleaner close enough, they'd be able to see the extra spring in his step as he walks to his room. Luckily, he was under no one else's gaze as he pushed open the door to his dorm. He makes quick work of his clothes, swiftly changing out of his cleaners uniform and into a casual oversized blue outfit. The man wastes no effort in packing extra items, he simply tucks Tokushin into his long sleeve, laces his roller skates, and sets off for the entrance lobby.

Semiu looks up from her magazine, noticing the stoic cleaner. "I've already gotten word from boss. Have a safe trip and make sure you get back when you're scheduled to," she calls out to Tamsy as she looks back down at her magazine.

"Come now, I wouldn't dare stain my punctuality record. You should know that, yes? Have a little more faith in me, Semiu." He smiles at her, giving a wave before heading outside. Tamsy took off the moment his wheels hit the ground, eager to reach a secluded area suited for take off. It only takes a couple of minutes for the long haired cleaner to find a suitable spot, after all, there are many uninhabited areas on the Ground.

After one more look around, he flares out his wings. One powerful motion is all it takes for the angelic man to start ascending. The wind in his face is no bother, in fact, it's not even a thought on his mind when he's so focused on getting to the Sphere. Not because the floating island is seen as a paradise, but because his paradise is awaiting him there. You are awaiting him. That thought alone is enough to motivate him to fly at his top speed.

A soft thump sounds as the prince lands on the open windowsill to his bedroom chambers in the palace. He folds his wings in, the gold masses disappearing behind him. He gracefully slides into the room and scans the area.

Empty. That's odd, he thinks. You're usually in here this time of day. He takes a breath and opens his mouth, ready to call out your name. Before he can, a small crash echoes from his closet, as if someone just dropped everything they had. He walks over to where the noise originated.

"Darli-?"

"TAMSY," you rush at him full speed, enveloping your arms around him with a huge smile on your face. Your fiancé plants a kiss to your head before placing gentle hands on your shoulders. He puts slight distance between your bodies, so he could get a good look at his girl. Bringing his large hands up, he cradles your face and gazes into your sparkling eyes. He makes no attempt to hide the admiration in his expression before leaning back in to place a longing kiss on your lips.

You pull back this time, unable to contain your excitement. "Oh my gosh, you're home! You're really back, I missed you so much. It felt like you were gone forever!!!" You bounce with excitement, your hair bobbing along with your movement. The white Spherite attire you adorn sits nicely on your form. He smiles but stays quiet, almost lost in a trance with the way your hair frames your face like a crown. She truly is fit for a queen, he deems.

"I missed you, too, my love. You could never know how much I cherish our time together," he muses. He adores when you're excited, so he makes no attempt to calm you down. You giggle at his confession and start rattling off once more.

"How are you? How was was your trip? What is it like in the-" you cut yourself off abruptly and run over to the large doors. You shut them and speed back over to Tamsy. "What is it like in the pit?" you brought yout voice down to a whisper. He chuckled at your antics before responding.

"I'm doing splendid, I'll tell you all about the pit later, I promise. But first, what are you doing with that clipboard, pray tell?"

"Oh, right," you blink at the clipboard in your hand, having finally calmed down enough to have a normal conversation. "I'm wedding planning!! You got here just in time." You clap your hands twice and turn to the closet before calling out "Tamsy!"

On command an identical version of Tamsy walks out of the closet. He dons the same scars, missing pinky, and dual-toned hair. The only difference is that his hair is flowing behind him, free from any type of binding and he's in royal Spherite attire. His arms are full of fabrics, color swatches, and books.

You turn back to the real Tamsy and pull out your compact mirror from your pocket. "It's just like you said," you begin with a smile, holding up the mirror to him, "as long as I clone you with my vital instrument, no one will suspect a thing."

He looks at you fondly before speaking, "I truly could not do what I do without you, darling. You allow me to frequent the pit, whilst insuring no one notices my absence. I can only imagine how tough it must be for you to keep this ruse for so long."

You feel your face heat and clear your throat while avoiding his sandy eyes. "It's nothing really, I can't have the kingdom spiraling over your disappearance." You gesture towards the bed and Clone Tamsy sets the materials down there. You open your compact mirror and point it toward the clone. "Absorb," you command and he is turned to light and sucked back into the glass.

"Now that you're really here there's no use for him right now," you grab his hand. It's slightly calloused due to constantly holding his distaff, but you love the warmth it provides nonetheless. You guide him over to the bed and sit down.

Placing Tokushin aside, Tamsy reaches for a book and opens it. "Wedding inspiration pictures. I presume the images you've circled and noted are things you desire at our own," the blond inquires, eyes scanning over the pages.

"Actually they're things I wanted to discuss with you about maybe having, it's your wedding too afterall." You snuggle into his side, pointing at a flower arch. Being so close you can take in his scent, and notice he's wearing the cologne you like. "But you have to wear this on our wedding, non-negotiable," you take in a big breath of air to linger in the smell.

"Noted," he tries to keep his smile down while flipping the page and his eyes land on a cake. "How do you feel about vanilla cake with strawberries on top?"

"Sounds perfect," you kiss his neck and he let's out a small, approving hum in response to feeling your soft, full lips. After a few minutes, you lift your head and turn your attention toward the open window. From here, you can see the edge of the sphere. "Will you tell me about the pit now?"

Tamsy closes the book and chuckles. He wraps his arms around you and lays you both against the bed to cuddle. "Well first, I suppose I should start by telling you the residents prefer the term The Ground"