୨୧ asking the gachiakuta men for a kiss
♡ featuring. enjin, zanka, tamsy, gris, jabber, follo
He’s pacing, coiled tight, still annoyed by something you said earlier, giving you that sharp, silent treatment he thinks is subtle.
You tug lightly at his sleeve. “…Kiss ?” Just one tiny word.
He freezes. His head tilts toward you like you just punched the air out of his lungs. “…Seriously ?” he mutters, voice low, raw, but he’s already stepping closer. “You’re gonna ask me that. Right now.” You nod, small, shy.
His composure snaps — he grips your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls you in with a frustrated exhale. “You’re impossible,” he whispers against your lips, moments before kissing you slow, deep, like he’s finally melting.
And just like that, the argument disappears. He can’t stay mad at you — not when you ask for him like that.
He’s focused, meticulously cleaning his lovely assistaff for the fourth time, pretending he’s not ignoring you.
You whisper, barely audible over the faint shing of metal: “…Can I have a kiss ?”
Zanka drops the cloth like it burned him. His ears turn bright pink — his whole posture softens, instantly yielding. “I— yes. Of course. Come here.”
He steps toward you so carefully, as if he’s scared to do it wrong. He cups your face with gentle, warm hands, eyes flicking between your lips and your gaze, a visible struggle. His kiss is feather-light, almost shy, but you feel his breath tremble against your skin.
“…Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice a soft apology. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.” He kisses you again, just a bit firmer this time. He’s yours the moment you ask.
He’s sprawled across your bed, one arm tucked under his head, the other lazily draped over the blankets. Sunlight filters through the curtains, painting soft, sleepy patterns across the sheets.
You crawl in beside him, nudging his side gently. “Tamsy…?”
“You need something, my love ?” He shifts immediately, pulling you against him, his arms wrapping snugly and possessively around your waist. You lean closer, breath warm against his ear, whispering, “Kiss ?”
He freezes for a heartbeat, that familiar, utterly mischievous grin spreading slow across his face. “A kiss, hm? ”
His fingers brush your jaw lightly, tilting your face up to his. “Darling… you didn’t even need to ask.” The kiss is slow, soft, and teasing, a promise of more. When he pulls back, that smirk lingers, warm and playful, daring you to stay in his arms forever.
He’s just sitting there, legs slightly apart, hands resting open on his thighs, radiating a deep, unshakeable calm.
You step in front of him, a little hesitant, arms clasped behind your back, and whisper: “…Kiss me ?”
For a fraction of a second, his eyes widen — a flash of surprise — then a profound, soft smile spreads across his face. “Of course,” he says simply, his voice low but steady.
He reaches for you, guiding you gently between his legs, settling you comfortably on his lap. His hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, keeping you close. He leans in slowly, and when his lips meet yours, the kiss is deep, grounding, and absolute.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he murmurs, a hint of amusement and awe in his voice: “You always know exactly how to get me, don’t you ?”
He’s adjusting his rings, posture loose but restlessly energetic, that leftover fight-high buzzing under his skin.
You step close and murmur, “…Kiss ?” and his hands still instantly. His grin spreads slow, sharp, amused — like you just offered him something far more thrilling than simple affection.
He steps into your space, closing the gap, his thumb dragging sensually across your lower lip, deliberately smudging it as he studies your reaction. “Asking me like that… you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, dollface,” he murmurs, voice low and excited.
His kiss comes sudden and intense, holding back just enough not to overwhelm, just enough to make your pulse jump. When he pulls back, he brushes your lips with his thumb again, his smile tilting in predatory pleasure. “Do it again ma,” he says softly. “I like it.”
He’s in the middle of something, totally lost in his thoughts and humming under his breath as you poke his shoulder.
He blinks. Once. Twice. Then he beams, a sudden burst of sunlight. “A kiss ? For me ?”
He drops everything instantly — whatever he was holding clatters softly — and hugs you so tightly you lift off the ground for a second, a squeak escaping your lips. Then he gives you the softest, happiest kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks with pure, unadulterated affection. “I’ll never say no,” he says with a flushed, genuine smile. “You can interrupt me anytime.”
