kinbedo

[kinbedo]

✦ chapter 1: the rooftop

kinich x fem reader || wc: 5.1k .ᐟ

sypnosis. it starts with an unexpected meeting on the school rooftop — a quiet boy with faraway eyes, and a girl looking for silence. neither of them meant to find something in each other, but day by day, they do. through wordless afternoons, exchanged drinks, and unspoken routines, a fragile connection forms. it’s not quite friendship. not yet love. just something quiet. slow. inevitable.

the first time you saw him, he was already up there.

you hadn’t meant to skip class. not really. it wasn’t rebellion, or laziness, or anything you could name in a way that sounded bold. it was just… one of those days. the kind where everything felt too sharp, too bright. where people’s voices grated against your ears and the floor felt too hard beneath your shoes. the kind of day where existing in the hallways felt like something you had to earn, and you didn’t have the energy.

so you kept walking.

up past the third floor, where the stairwell turned quiet. up to the very top, where you’d always heard the rooftop door was supposed to be locked — but today, it wasn’t.

your fingers hesitated on the handle for a second before you pushed it open.

the air hit you like exhale. open sky. the kind of quiet that doesn't ask anything of you. just space and soft wind and the rustle of tree branches far below. the sun hung low behind faint clouds, filtering everything in soft gold.

and then you saw him.

curled up near the wall, legs pulled up, back against the concrete. his eyes were half-shut, dark lashes casting shadows on his pale skin. messy hair falling in his face. his headphones dangled around his neck, not in use. he wasn’t asleep, but he wasn’t entirely there either — like someone mid-dream.

you froze.

you’d expected the rooftop to be empty. you thought maybe you’d be alone. that you needed to be alone. and yet, for some reason, your first instinct wasn’t to leave.

you shifted your weight. he looked up.

not startled. not annoyed. just… watching. his expression didn’t change. not even when your eyes met. he blinked once, slow.

you opened your mouth to say something — maybe “sorry,” maybe “i didn’t know someone was here” — but nothing came out. the words felt clumsy, like they didn’t fit the air between you.

then, he spoke.

“you can stay.”

his voice was rough in a quiet way. not unfriendly. just used to not being used.

you nodded, barely. walked to the opposite side of the rooftop, letting your bag slide off your shoulder with a dull thud. you sat. pulled your knees to your chest.

you didn’t look at him again.

he didn’t speak again either.

and yet, somehow, the silence between you didn’t feel like a wall. it felt like a curtain. like if you tried hard enough, you could pull it back and see what was underneath.

✦ —

you went back the next day.

you didn’t tell anyone. you slipped out the same way — when the hallway emptied, when the teacher turned their back. the stairs felt quieter this time. your footsteps slower. more certain.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting. maybe that he wouldn’t be there. maybe that it had just been a fluke. a weird shared moment that disappeared like a dream when you woke up.

but when you pushed the rooftop door open, he was already there.

same place. same slouched posture. same faraway look in his eyes, like his body was there but the rest of him had floated off somewhere no one else could follow.

this time, he didn’t look up until you were halfway across the roof.

he shifted slightly when he saw you. moved his bag to the side, like making room. like expecting you.

you sat down again, just a little closer than before.

still no words.

✦ —

on the third day, you brought your headphones too.

you didn’t use them. just let them sit around your neck as you leaned your head back and watched the sky. the clouds looked slower from up here, like time was running at half-speed.

he hadn’t brought anything new. no notebook. no phone out. just himself, like always, half-folded into the quiet. every so often, you’d glance over and see that he’d tilted his head toward you. not obviously. not enough to call it staring. just... facing you, a little.

you wanted to ask his name.

but it felt too sudden. too loud in a place like this.

so instead, you asked, “do you come here a lot?”

he didn’t move. didn’t even open his eyes.

“when i don’t want to be anywhere else.”

your fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your sleeves.

“…that’s a good reason,” you said.

he didn’t answer. but you didn’t need him to.

✦ —

on the fourth day, you brought two drinks.

you’d bought them without thinking. one for yourself, like usual. the second one just… felt like a natural extension of the first. you didn’t know if he liked the flavor. didn’t even know if he’d take it. but something told you to try.

when you stepped onto the roof, he was already there — again. and this time, when you sat down, you placed the second bottle beside him without looking at his face.

he stared at it for a moment. then at you.

picked it up. opened the cap.

“thanks,” he said.

you smiled at your lap. the breeze felt a little warmer.

✦ —

he didn’t tell you his name until a week in.

you were both lying flat on your backs that day, side by side, barely a few inches between you. your hands rested by your sides, fingers splayed like they were reaching for something but didn’t know how.

you watched the sky in silence for a long time.

“what’s your name?” you asked eventually.

he didn’t answer right away. the clouds drifted overhead, slow and steady.

“…kinich,” he said finally.

you repeated it in your head. once, twice.

“huh,” you said out loud. “that’s kinda cool.”

he exhaled — maybe a laugh. maybe just relief.

“you?”

you told him. and when he said it back, it sounded softer. like a secret.

✦ —

he never talked much.

but he always listened.

and somehow, that made you want to talk even more.

you found yourself telling him stories you hadn’t told anyone else. stupid jokes from lunch, awkward moments from class, things your friends had said that stuck with you in weird ways. it wasn’t like he responded with anything big — no jokes back, no long answers — but he looked at you like he was hearing you. like the words were sinking in, piece by piece.

sometimes, you caught him smiling. just barely. but enough.

it made your chest feel too small for a second. like maybe something inside you was growing, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

✦ —

you saw him outside of school once.

at a convenience store near the train tracks. he was standing by the fridge section, staring blankly at rows of canned coffee like they’d offended him personally. hoodie sleeves too long for his fingers. eyes heavy.

you waved, on instinct.

he looked up, startled. his eyes widened just slightly before his expression flattened back into something calmer.

he nodded. slow. almost shy.

you didn’t speak. just smiled. and walked past.

you smiled the whole way home.

✦ —

you didn’t tell your friends about him.

not because you were hiding anything. not really. it was just that… you didn’t have the words for it. it wasn’t friendship. not exactly. it wasn’t flirting. it wasn’t a crush, at least not in the loud, easy way people talked about crushes.

he was kinich.

and he was yours, in a way you didn’t know how to explain.

✦ —

one day, it rained.

you almost didn’t go.

you stood by the window, watching the gray sky, wondering if he would be there. if the rooftop would still feel like sanctuary with water pounding the pavement.

but you went anyway.

and he was already there. hood up, knees pulled in, shoulders hunched slightly under the drizzle. he didn’t flinch when you opened the door. didn’t even seem surprised.

his eyes flicked toward you. expectant.

you stepped out, let the rain hit your arms and soak through your sleeves. sat beside him, closer this time. your knees nearly brushed.

“…you don’t talk much,” you said after a while.

he shrugged. his hood shifted slightly with the movement.

“you talk enough for both of us.”

you nudged him with your elbow. he didn’t pull away.

“that was almost a compliment.”

“don’t get used to it.”

but you caught the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

and he didn’t move away.

✦ —

you didn’t realize how much you looked forward to seeing him until you were late one day.

a group project meeting ran long. your classmates were loud and clingy, laughing about something you didn’t care about, and all you could think about was the rooftop. the sky. him.

you texted him, fingers trembling a little.

you didn’t get a reply.

but when you finally got there — breathless, bag swinging off your shoulder, heart racing in the worst and best way — he was there.

he didn’t look up.

just handed you a drink, the one you liked, and shifted over slightly to make room.

you sat down beside him and didn’t say a word.

you didn’t need to.

✦ —

it didn’t feel like friendship. not exactly.

it felt like something quieter. something under the surface. something with no name, but all the weight of something real. like you were both holding a thread between your fingers and neither of you dared pull it too hard in case it snapped.

by the end of the month, the rooftop didn’t feel empty anymore.

it felt like home.

the rooftop became routine.

not something you planned, or even something you consciously decided. it just… happened. like muscle memory. like blinking. like breathing.

a quiet kind of ritual, stitched into the slow, in-between hours of the day. after class. before club meetings. during skipped lunches and cloudy afternoons when everything else felt too loud. when the hallways buzzed with a kind of noise neither of you could ever quite stand.

sometimes, he was already there when you arrived — slouched against the wall, legs stretched out, hood pulled low over his brow, earbuds in. his head would tilt slightly toward you when he noticed your footsteps, but he never said anything first. not right away. he didn’t need to.

other days, you got there first. sat with your knees drawn up to your chest, bag at your side, picking at the chipped paint along the edge of the bench. you never had to wait long — he’d appear minutes later, quiet as shadow, the door creaking faintly behind him. his presence always settled next to yours without question, like it had always belonged there. like you’d saved him a seat without knowing.

you never asked each other where you'd come from.

never asked why you both kept ending up in the same place.

maybe because you already knew — in that strange, unspoken way that didn’t require names or reasons or explanations. maybe because putting it into words would make it too heavy to hold.

on the fifth tuesday, he fell asleep beside you.

you hadn’t noticed at first. he was quiet as always, his head tilted back against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest. the wind tugged at the edge of his hoodie and the sun made pale lines across his cheekbones, casting faint shadows under his eyes.

you thought he was just… still. thinking, maybe. lost in whatever fog he always seemed to carry in his expression.

but when you turned to make a passing comment about the clouds — some half-formed joke about how one of them looked like a rabbit — you found him completely motionless, lashes resting against his skin, mouth parted ever so slightly with sleep.

you froze.

your voice died in your throat.

he looked soft. peaceful. untouched. like the world couldn’t reach him up here. like whatever weight he carried — all the heaviness in his shoulders, the tiredness he never spoke about — had finally let him go for a moment.

you didn’t move.

didn’t even breathe properly.

just watched the way his chest rose and fell in slow rhythm, steady and calm, like the sky itself had slowed down to match him.

you sat beside him for a long time like that. quiet. still. barely daring to blink in case the spell broke.

you wondered what kind of dreams a boy like kinich had.

if he dreamed at all.

and if he did — were they soft and safe like this rooftop? or were they sharp and broken, twisted up with things he never said out loud?

you never asked.

but that night, you thought about him more than you meant to.

not his face, necessarily. not his voice. just… the quiet. the comfort. the strange gravity of his presence. the way silence with him never felt awkward. never felt empty.

it felt like something.

maybe that’s what made you come back again.

and again. and again.

✦ —

one day, you brought snacks.

not much — just a pack of those cheap pastries from the vending machine downstairs, the ones dusted with too much sugar and filled with barely-there custard. you hadn’t even thought about it, really. just grabbed two without thinking, the way you’d grab an extra pencil or a spare tissue. automatic. careless. but intentional in a way you didn’t want to admit.

when you climbed the stairs and pushed open the rooftop door, he was already there. sitting in the same spot, one knee propped up, phone dangling loosely in his hand.

he glanced up at the sound of your arrival. didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod — barely there. but you caught it. you always did.

you sat beside him, the familiar rustle of your backpack filling the silence, and then — without looking at him — held one of the pastries out.

no words.

just an offering.

he didn’t take it right away.

you could feel his gaze on your hand, then on your face, and back again. there was a brief pause, like he was waiting for you to say something. like he was trying to understand what the gesture meant.

“…you always feed people you barely know?” he asked finally. his voice was dry, a little rough at the edges, like he hadn’t spoken all day. but it wasn’t mean. not really.

you rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at the corners. “don’t flatter yourself. i just didn’t want to waste it.”

but when he reached out and took it from you — his fingers brushing against yours, warm and calloused and fleeting — something caught in your chest anyway.

a soft, almost imperceptible pause in your heartbeat.

he didn’t say thank you.

just unwrapped it slowly, quietly, and took a bite. the sugar clung to his fingertips. he didn’t even flinch.

he ate the whole thing.

and the next day, he brought drinks.

you didn’t expect it. hadn’t even thought he’d noticed, honestly. but when you pushed open the rooftop door, there he was — two cans balanced beside him on the concrete, condensation already forming at the edges.

he didn’t look at you when he handed one over.

just held it out, eyes fixed on the sky.

you didn’t say thank you.

but your fingers lingered on the can a little longer than they needed to.

and your smile stayed for the rest of the afternoon.

✦ —

it started to change after that.

not all at once. not loudly. not in a way either of you could point to and say, there, that was the moment.

but it changed.

he started waiting for you.

you never talked about it, but you noticed. how he lingered just inside the stairwell when it rained. how he glanced at the rooftop door every few seconds until you arrived. how his shoulders stayed tense until you spoke, until your voice threaded into the space between you and softened everything.

you noticed, too, how he listened now. not just with his ears — but with his whole body. turned slightly toward you. hand resting closer. sometimes he’d laugh under his breath when you said something dumb. barely a sound, more like an exhale, but it made your chest flutter anyway.

you started bringing more snacks.

he started remembering your favorite drink.

one time, you found a small packet of candy in your bag — a kind you’d mentioned liking once, forever ago. no note. no explanation. but you looked up at him, and he looked away too quickly, ears pink where they peeked out from his hood.

you didn’t say anything.

but the next day, you brought him his favorite chips — the ones he pretended not to like but always finished when you offered.

it became a rhythm. a language. a routine you both pretended not to notice.

and still, no one said anything.

✦ —

one day, you found yourself watching his hands.

they were always moving. tapping against his thigh. tugging at his sleeves. pulling at the loose threads of his hoodie. nervous habits, maybe. something to do when he didn’t know what else to say.

but they were careful hands, too.

gentle, when he passed you a drink. deliberate, when he tucked your hair behind your ear that one time — just once — when the wind had gotten too strong and you couldn’t see. neither of you acknowledged it. he didn’t even meet your eyes after.

but your skin burned there for the rest of the day.

✦ —

you missed a rooftop day once.

it wasn’t your fault — a group activity had run long, and by the time you’d gotten free, the sky was already dark, the rooftop locked, the school echoing and empty.

you went home restless. your chest tight. your thoughts loud.

you didn’t text him. you didn’t even know if you could — if that was something you were allowed to do, if this rooftop thing had crossed into anything real enough to exist outside of its quiet space.

but the next day, he was already there when you arrived. and when you sat down, a little hesitant, he didn’t look at you right away. didn’t say hello.

instead, he passed you a warm drink — your favorite — and muttered, “thought you weren’t coming.”

your breath caught. not from the words — but from the way he said them.

quiet. raw. vulnerable in a way he never let himself be.

“i wanted to,” you said.

he didn’t respond.

but his hands were still. and they stayed close to yours the whole time.

�� —

you never meant for it to matter this much.

but it did.

you started counting the days between your meetings. started noticing the way your stomach dropped when he was late. started memorizing the way he sat, the way he listened, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

sometimes, you wondered if he noticed you doing the same.

and sometimes, you were sure he did.

because one afternoon, he spoke — sudden and small, like the words had been sitting in his mouth for a long time and he finally got tired of holding them in.

“you’re the only person i can breathe around.”

you didn’t look at him. didn’t move. just stared at the clouds.

but your throat felt tight. your heart too full.

“…same,” you whispered, eventually.

it wasn’t enough. not quite.

but it was something.

and it stayed with you for a long, long time.

✦ —

it started with a loose thread.

you noticed it one afternoon — hanging from the frayed edge of his sleeve, the dark fabric worn thin from use. it swayed gently in the breeze like it had always been there, soft and barely visible, but your eyes kept catching on it.

you were both sitting like usual — backs to the wall, legs stretched out, snacks between you, the city sprawling quiet below. he'd said something offhand about your math teacher being a sadist and you’d laughed, louder than expected, head tilted back into the sun.

he was talking more lately.

not full sentences, not stories — but words. actual words. a muttered opinion. a sarcastic comment. one day, he’d said your name for the first time, testing it out like it was foreign in his mouth. you’d felt it echo in your chest for the rest of the afternoon.

sometimes, he even looked at you when he spoke.

he didn’t notice you staring at his sleeve.

didn’t notice the way your fingers itched toward that little thread. it wasn’t bothering him. but it was bothering you. loose things always did. things that felt like they were coming undone.

your hand moved before you could stop it — slow, careful, deliberate. two fingers catching the thread like it might vanish if you weren’t gentle.

“you’ll unravel,” you said, smiling. a joke. kind of.

his breath hitched.

you didn’t pull, not really — just smoothed it down, curling the thread around your finger once before letting it fall back into place.

your fingers brushed his wrist.

and for the briefest second, the whole world tilted.

his pulse jumped under your touch — quick and fluttering, like a rabbit startled by sound. you felt it against your fingertips and then all the way through you, like static humming under your skin.

he went still. perfectly, terrifyingly still.

he didn’t look at you.

he didn’t move away.

you let your hand fall into your lap, pretending not to notice the way your own pulse had picked up speed — how your chest felt full and sharp all at once. how your body remembered him even when your brain tried not to.

you didn’t mention it.

neither did he.

but afterward, he didn’t lean away. he sat closer that day. not by much. just enough for your shoulders to nearly touch when the wind blew the right way. just enough for you to wonder if you were imagining it.

you thought about it the rest of the day.

how warm his skin was.

how still he’d gone.

how your heart had kicked against your ribs like it was trying to get out.

you didn’t know what it meant. not exactly.

but you knew what it felt like.

and you knew you wanted to do it again.

✦ —

a few days later, you saw him in the hallway between classes.

it wasn’t special, not at first — just one of those passing moments where the crowd split and he happened to be in your line of sight. his hands were shoved into his pockets, hood up even though you were indoors. his expression was unreadable. distracted. withdrawn.

you weren’t alone.

you were laughing — bright, careless laughter, the kind he never heard on the rooftop. surrounded by people. classmates, probably. friends. someone had said something stupid, and you'd thrown your head back, eyes shining, your smile wide and open in a way it never quite was with him.

you didn’t see him.

not even when someone called your name and you turned, still laughing, brushing a hand through your hair like you did when you were nervous and didn’t want to look like it.

but he saw you.

and something in him shifted.

something slow and bitter.

he wasn’t sure what it was at first — just a tightness, low in his chest. a strange heat behind his ribs. like being left out of a joke he didn’t know was being told. like watching someone he’d memorized suddenly become unfamiliar in a different light.

you looked different down here.

louder. warmer. brighter.

like you belonged somewhere else. with someone else.

and he didn’t know what to do with that feeling — didn’t have the words for it, didn’t even know where to put it.

so he turned away before you could see him watching.

and that afternoon, he didn’t go to the rooftop.

✦ —

you noticed the absence right away.

you pretended you didn’t.

you waited longer than usual — sitting with your bag in your lap, picking at the edge of your sleeve. your chest felt too tight, like it was filled with smoke. every creak of the door made you look up. every bird overhead made you flinch.

but he didn’t come.

you stayed until the sun dipped just a little lower.

then you left, your heart loud in your ears, trying not to think about the ache that settled deep in your stomach.

the next day, he wasn’t there either.

you didn’t realize how used to him you’d gotten — how much the days blurred without him. the rooftop didn’t feel like the same place anymore. it felt thinner. emptier. like something had been pulled out of it and you weren’t sure how to put it back.

you hated it.

and worse — you missed him.

you didn’t know how much until he was gone.

✦ —

you didn’t see him again until friday.

not on the rooftop.

in the hallway again, near the lockers this time. he had his hood off for once, hair falling into his eyes, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. he looked tired. sharper somehow. his posture stiff like he was bracing for something.

you almost didn’t say anything.

almost walked past, afraid to break whatever fragile, invisible thread still hung between you.

but then he glanced up — and for just a second, his eyes found yours.

and the tension dropped from his shoulders all at once.

like he’d been holding his breath. like seeing you let something settle in his chest.

“hey,” you said, quiet, just for him.

his reply was almost too soft to catch.

“…hey.”

you didn’t say where were you. you didn’t say i missed you. you didn’t say i thought you’d left.

you just looked at each other for a long moment. and somehow, that was enough.

for now.

✦ —

the rooftop was quiet again that afternoon.

the kind of quiet that made you second-guess every step on the stairs.

you weren’t sure if he’d show up. not after yesterday. not after the hallway. not after the way your chest had ached, not knowing if you’d done something wrong — or worse, if this whole thing only mattered to you.

but you still went. just in case.

the sky was heavy with gold light, the kind that makes everything feel like it’s glowing from within. the clouds moved slow and lazy above the buildings, and the air was soft — not cold, not warm. just there.

you sat where you always did.

pulled your knees to your chest.

watched the sky. waited.

the wind caught your hair. your sleeve. the edge of your thoughts. it moved around you like a memory, like a whisper you couldn’t quite hold onto.

you were starting to think he wouldn’t come.

and then — the door opened.

soft. cautious. like maybe he wasn’t sure if he should be here either.

you didn’t look right away. you didn’t need to.

you felt it first — that quiet shift in the air. that small gravity that only came with him. then the faint drag of footsteps, that barely-there rustle of fabric, the exhale he always let out when he sat down like the whole world had been too loud and this was the only place he could hear himself again.

he sat beside you.

closer than usual.

you still didn’t say anything.

neither did he.

but the silence wasn’t sharp this time. it didn’t press. it settled. soft and full and warm. like something living between you — something that didn’t need words to be understood.

he pulled his knees up, arms resting over them. his hoodie fell over his hands again, but you could still see his fingers — moving. fidgeting. tugging gently at the cuff of his sleeve.

you watched them for a second too long. then your eyes slid up. his face was calm, but there was a tension in his jaw, in the way his lashes didn’t flutter like they normally did when he was relaxed.

he felt you looking.

“what?” he murmured, not quite meeting your eyes.

you shook your head. “nothing.”

but you didn’t look away.

not this time.

and neither did he.

for a long breath, the space between you felt like it could collapse if either of you moved too fast. then a breeze passed through — soft and low, like it didn’t want to interrupt.

your fingers brushed.

barely.

a blink. a breath. a maybe.

and he didn’t pull away.

so you didn’t either.

your pinkies sat there, side by side, not quite holding, not quite separate. just touching. like a secret. like a promise neither of you were ready to say out loud.

the sky turned peach-gold, then lavender.

the clouds deepened.

you leaned back slowly, letting your weight rest against the wall behind you. let your gaze drift to the fading horizon. the wind tugged at the edge of your collar, soft and insistent.

you exhaled.

“you weren’t here yesterday,” you said, quiet. like you were afraid the words might scare him off.

his hands stilled.

he didn’t answer at first.

just kept staring straight ahead, face unreadable. you let the silence stretch, thinking maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all. you’d learned not to expect things from him — learned that some silences held more meaning than others.

but then, finally—

“…didn’t feel like it.”

his voice was rough. low. not cold, but… distant. like he was trying not to feel anything at all.

you nodded, slow. didn’t press. you were afraid if you did, the thread between you might snap.

but after a pause, so faint you almost missed it, he added,

“…i didn’t think you’d notice.”

you turned to him, sharp and soft at the same time.

he still wasn’t looking at you. his expression was blank — or trying to be. but his hands gave him away. his fingers were clenched in the fabric of his sleeves now, curled too tight, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“of course i did,” you said.

three words. too big for your mouth. too true to say any quieter.

he looked at you then.

really looked.

his eyes were darker in the light, but there was something bright underneath them — something flickering, uncertain. he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. like he didn’t know what to do with the way you said things that meant something.

you thought he might say something more.

but he didn’t.

he didn’t have to.

because his hand — the one closest to yours — didn’t move away.

and when your pinky brushed his again, soft and hesitant and hopeful, this time…

he let it stay.

and you stayed like that until the sun dipped beneath the buildings and the wind picked up and the air grew quiet again — but it wasn’t empty.

it wasn’t lonely.

not anymore.

next chapter.

a/n: aaaa this was so fun to write, but lowkey i feel like i forgot how to use words halfway through LOL. i don’t usually write long fics so this whole thing is super new to me! i hope u guys enjoy the story and stick with me through this journey hehe. also huge thanks and credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines <3

[kinbedo]

Summer vacations— two weeks in

Mercy on Me

series masterlist _ main masterlist

warnings: emotional vulnerability, mentions of arguments and abuse; reverse comfort

wc: 1k

Kinich had gone back to visit his parents for two weeks since he felt obligated to. Despite him not being the most talkative, things felt dull without him around. The first few days were still fine with Ajaw creating a ruckus and Mualani being on his back, both constantly bickering like siblings with ancient rivalry.

But then Ajaw started getting quieter.

The first day of him being quiet was weird. Maybe he was tired? Maybe he just had something on his mind? Xilonen was the first to notice, and asked you if you felt something strange too. But both of you decided against asking him– maybe he’ll be back to normal tomorrow?

The next day, the blond was still quieter. Occasionally you would hear him mumble something across the lines of “be back soon” and “he’s okay” but the way he looked so zoned out made you avoid asking him about it.

And then the third day came to pass. 

He was getting eerily quiet and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Mualani even tried patting him on the back, not daring to joke around him in his current state. But Ajaw shoved her hand away, biting his lip and never taking his eyes off his shoes.

On the fourth, you weren’t expecting to have a guest at home, much less a dejected black cat. You stare at the black-haired boy, his stumped figure making him look shorter. His eyes were slightly puffy, and he looked like he was about to cry (again). He fiddled with his fingers, his head held down and his breathing laboured, with him occasionally taking in a deeper breath to stop his running nose.

Your mom ushered Kinich inside your room, quietly stating that she’s going to get you some snacks, as if she herself is scared of breaking the glass-delicate atmosphere in the room. You silently nod your head as the door closes behind Kinich. 

He just stood there, not even daring to look up. You walk up to him and notice the small band-aid on the underside of his chin and some bandage around his elbow. You wince at the thought of what could have happened back at his home for him to return a week early and that too with injuries.

You signal him to come inside, but Kinich stands still in his place, unmoving. You have to lead him to sit down. When your tiny hand comes in contact with his equally small back, you realise he's shivering. Clumsily, he lets you lead him to your bed, plopping down.

You're unsure of what to say. You don't even understand what could have shaken him so bad when he had only just gone to visit his paren–

"My mom and dad... they won't,” he sniffles, “they never stop fighting." Kinich's first words come out uncharacteristically shaky. His voice is slightly high pitched, as if he had been holding his breath for quite some while now. And then he breaks down, tears running down his cheeks as his hands come up to cover his face. 

Oh.

You let out a quiet gasp, unable to process the situation. Looking back at his bandaged hands, you're dreading to think what could've happened.

You look around your room, searching for something, anything, to say, either to comfort him or distract him.

You're cursing yourself for not being as energetic as Mualani, for not being as insightful as Xilonen. You try to remember things other people say in such situations, and you start remembering Xilonen's other friends. Mavuika, who is really good with words and can encourage anyone, Chasca, who gives good advice after patiently listening to you.

Even Kachina's innocence could probably make him feel better. 

You feel him shift beside you, turning further away as the frequency of his broken sobs and hitched breaths increase. 

You don't have time to hope for someone else to come. You don't have time to compare yourself with others. 

You need to find a way to calm him down. That should be your priority.

You crawl over to him. His back is turned away, his hunched figure looking the most pathetic you've ever seen him. You reach your hands out, hesitating mid way before fully embracing him. 

"Shh it's okay. I'm here." You wince at how meek you sounded. So you take a deep breath before continuing, praying that your voice won't betray you twice. "I've got you."

You feel him loosen up in your arms. He's trying to take deep breaths, though most of them are still hitched. You gently caress his arm, rubbing circles near his wrist. He lets his hands fall beside him and you notice the messy dragon and dinosaur drawings on his inner arm. The drawings have been blurred a bit but you can point out Ajaw's distinct way of drawing faces- with bigger teeth and smaller eyes, though this time, it seems he made an attempt to make it look like the dragon was smiling. 

"Really? Was drawing on someone's arms the only way he could think of to comfort them?" You sigh, unintentionally voicing your thoughts aloud. 

The boy in front of you sniffles, then chuckles a bit, before letting out a quiet laugh. You’re not sure why, but finally seeing him smile makes tears prick in the corner of your eyes. So you hug him again, snuggling into his back and trying to muffle out your own tears. 

Kinich embraces the human touch, holding your hand that was tracing the dragon drawings with his other hand.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you mumble into his back.

“Mhm. Uncle brought me back when he noticed something was off.”

You quietly thank the archons for the man Ajaw’s dad is.

[kinbedo]

Cyno: Tighnari's calling me on the Akasha. What do I do? He'll be angry I didn't tell him that we're on this secret mission!

Alhaitham: He'll be more suspicious if you don't answer him. Just lie.

Cyno: You know I can't lie to Nari. Here, Alhaitham, you answer it. You're great at lying.

Alhaitham, answers the call: Hey, Tighnari, Cyno is in the bathroom. I can leave him a message for you.

Kaveh: Tighnari knew that Cyno would give the phone to you and avoid lying so he had me call you. So, where are you and what are you doing?

Alhaitham: ... Your hair is really nice today.

[kinbedo]

Temporary semi-hiatus because I gotta lock in for the entrance exam.

Hopefully I'll be back by September or October, because I definitely won't be abandoning my drafts lol <3

[kinbedo]

Your "felt like 5 mins" felt like 2 hours to me.

[kinbedo]

Mercy on Me

A Kinich x reader modern au written series

series masterlist _ main masterlist

Introductions

wc: 1.1k

Elementary School, Summer Vacations

Ajaw is annoying.

Always has been, and the whole neighbourhood believed that he always will be.

You and your friends could recognise that grating laughter from a mile away. Before you have the chance to turn around and see where he is, his yellow hair would pop up, him proudly riding his little 3-wheeled kid’s scooter yelling for everyone to get out of his way.

Which is also why you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw him with another guy.

You rub your eyes, once, twice, but the slightly shorter, black-haired boy is still there. Never taking your eyes off the sight, you fling your right arm, trying to catch your friend’s attention. The blue-haired girl is just as awestruck as you are, and so is the older blonde on your left. 

Mualani pulls the baby in her arms closer to her chest, the 4-year-old sleeping peacefully in her arms. “Should we follow them?”

“Yeah I’d uh like to know what’s going on too. Because there is no way that obnoxious brat actually made a friend.” Xilonen says, hands on her hips as she shakes her head.

You simply nod before you start moving, Xilonen in tow and Mualani stepping a lot more carefully due to Kachina sleeping in her arms.

The boy with Ajaw is a little shorter, but seems to be around the same age as you all. You don’t recall ever seeing him around the neighbourhood before. There’s a solemn expression on his face, as he quietly follows the blond. You notice the bandages around his forearm and your breath hitches. Ajaw is walking ahead, a stick in his hand and his chest puffed out. “That’s right, lowly servant! Keep marching with me! Ahaha!”

You crouch behind a nearby bush, while Xilonen takes the tree beside you. Mualani was just about to crouch down beside you when she stumbled, jerking Kachina awake, who started crying at the sudden movement.

The black-haired boy flinches, taking two unsteady steps back as Ajaw growls in annoyance. “WHO’S THERE? Oh it’s you three… plus one tch.” Ajaw snickers at the last part, annoyance evident in his tone. “Why even carry a baby around when you’re trying to stalk someone?? You’re bound to fail you dimwits!” 

“Hey at least we’re being nice and helping Kachina’s parents out! Unlike you, we’re not causing more problems for the adults!” Mualani snaps back, putting Kachina down. The little girl quickly shuffles to your side, clinging to the side of your shirt as you wrap a protective arm around her. Xilonen sighs. “Here they go again.”

“Oh so you DO admit to stalking! What business do you have with me this time, peasant?”

“Well… we were curious,” Mualani admits. “You never get along with anyone. How’d you end up making a friend?”

“Friend? Hah. I wouldn’t be hanging out with this kid if he weren’t my stupid cousin!”

“I’m older than you Ajaw…” the boy says meekly, his words barely above a whisper. 

“Introduce us.” Mualani states plainly. It's not a request, it's a demand.

“Hahh??? Ugh! You know what, fine. This is Kinich. Kinich, these are children.”

“YOU’RE THE SAME AGE AS US YOU YELLOW-HEADED BRAT.”

Kinich shifts uncomfortably, only nodding his head at being thrown into the limelight. 

“I’m uh Xilonen. Nice to meet you, Kinich. And this is Mualani, [name], and Kachina. I hope Ajaw’s been nice enough to you. And that uh, that Mualani hasn’t startled you.” You mirror Kinich’s actions on being mentioned, shuffling a bit and lightly kicking at the dirt beneath your feet.  

Kachina’s eyes shift between each one of you there, slowly letting go of you and standing on her own, the initial shock now worn off. After eyeing Kinich for a little while, she excitedly exclaims, “Want to be friends?”

.

.

.

You could often see the blond running around his house from your window. Sometimes, you’d step out to the balcony just to catch Ajaw basking in the sun in his own balcony, laughing loudly while making weird noises as he played with the dragon figurines in his hand. You could have been staring into the distance, when a golden brown arm would make its way into your peripheral vision, a smirk on Ajaw’s face as he pointed downwards before laughing maniacally. You’d always roll your eyes and just head back inside.

But lately, you started to notice a certain jet-haired boy around him. Kinich would often wave at you and cut his brother off when he tried to make a nasty comment.

“So you really are cousins.”

“Why would I bother with him otherwise??”

You were curious about the bandages, ready to reprimand Ajaw for hurting him.

But you didn’t even have to ask.

It wasn’t long after you met Kinich that your parents decided to take you over to Ajaw’s place. It was there that you found out more about Kinich.

...And his abusive parents.

You found out that Kinich had recently moved in with Ajaw’s family, and that he would be joining the same school as you post vacation.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the couch, as you sipped on the juice Ajaw’s mom gave you. She had always been such a sweetheart, having your favourites ready for whenever she saw you. You’d sometimes question how Ajaw was even related to this woman. But even her sweet smile looked a little dull today.

“Kinich is a brave lad,” Ajaw’s father began. “He called me one night and I went over to realise that… the atmosphere at his home wasn’t the best. So I offered to take him in. His mother, my wife’s sister, agreed.”

You looked over to Ajaw’s mom, and then to Ajaw and acknowledged their yellow hair as their most prominent feature. You then turn your gaze to Kinich, who had been staring at the floor the whole time, and notice the blond streaks in his own hair.

Kinich feels you staring at him and tilts his head towards you, his neck still inclined downward. You flinch and turn away, red dusting your cheeks at being caught. Kinich’s lips tilt upwards, a huff leaving him at your behaviour, causing you to look at him again, smiling nervously. 

“We were hoping that Kinich could be friends with your child. Even we’re aware that Ajaw can get a bit too rough at times.” His dad laughed, taking another sip of his wine. Ajaw groaned, but didn’t say anything back.

“If there’s anything you need, please, do call us. As neighbours, it’s our duty to help one-another.” Your mom says, holding her hand forward which Ajaw’s mom takes very graciously, mumbling a “thank you” in response.

Well, that felt like an official notice for you to add Kinich to your little group of friends.

And Ajaw. 

Just the thought itself makes you grumble.

Breaking this news to Mualani would definitely not go well.

[kinbedo]

Mercy on Me

A Kinich x reader modern au written series

series masterlist _ main masterlist

Featuring:

[name]: The unfortunate victim to Ajaw’s most annoying screams (perks of being his neighbour). Always forced willing to try new things with Mualani. Academic validation is everything. A bit on the quieter side, thanks to Mualani doing all the talking since a young age.

Ajaw: Your neighbour (unfortunately). Loud, boisterous, there’s a lot of things you could hate about him. But fine. Maybe you could try to get along with him. He’s the kind of guy that would rip his shirt off after an achievement– not to impress the ladies but because he couldn’t contain his emotions.

In terms of the ladies however… yeah he’s the one guy with great looks, great voice, great athletic skills and great disgust towards anything love. People that develop a crush on him lowkey get scared when they realise how much of an ego he has. (He doesn’t care though, he does it on purpose to avoid their nonsense) 

Mualani: Your best friend since the first time your parents took you outside. You both started talking immediately and her bubbly personality made it easy for you to become friends. She’s the most prone to getting into arguments with Ajaw (they pick on each other on purpose). 

Xilonen: A year older to you and Mualani. She stopped Mualani from getting into a fight with Ajaw. “Others are waiting to use the slide too. Get off if you only want to argue.” She became the person you sought out every time things got heated between Ajaw and Mualani, until she ended up tagging along and becoming a permanent member of your friend circle.

Kachina: Basically Mualani’s adopted child. You, Mualani and Xilonen were walking around the park when you noticed the little girl playing in the sand. Mualani, being a bit too fond of kids, immediately went over, picked the 18-month-old Kachina up, and declared herself “Kachina’s older sister” to Kachina’s parents (she was 4 then, a bit too ambitious but ended up living up to the title).

(You later had to tell Kachina that Mualani “couldn’t go home with her” because they weren’t actually sisters.)

Kinich: The new kid around the neighbourhood. You were worried about his sanity when you found out that he was already acquainted with Ajaw, but then you realised he was a lot tougher than he looks.

No but seriously, he always looked so sad and dull in the beginning, you couldn’t tell that he didn’t really care about Ajaw’s comments. This also led you to realise that Ajaw was not actually the meanest person in the world.

A/n: I keep thinking of Kisaki Tetta’s face when I think of Ajaw. Except, he has a few green strands in his hair and yellow-green eyes that are similar to Kinich’s, so that’s how I’m going to describe him throughout.

Someone pls get this image out of my head because even their attitude match send help

[kinbedo]

The process of me becoming obsessed with characters:

"Okay."

"Hmm"

"What? No I don't like them like that. Sure, they're kind of my type but I'm not into them."

"Okay, maybe I kind of am into them..."

"Oh."

"Oh no."

"I like them don't I..."

"I can't stop thinking about them oh my god I do like them."

"OMG HI I NEED MORE SCREENTIME FOR THIS PERSON PLS." *repeatedly listens to their dialogues and takes a million screenshots and starts daydreaming about them*

-Me with Albedo, Kazuha, Kinich, Kamonohashi Ron, Oikawa, Tighnari, Dan Heng (kinda), Shigino Kisumi, Akashi Seijurou, Vanitas, Haitani Rindou, Itoshi Sae

...And then there was me when I first laid my eyes on Ayaka, Anne Faulkner, Fin Fennec and 𝒯𝒽𝑒 Herta (I love my girlies sm <3333)

[kinbedo]

First years group chat (🐉🌸)

🌸: Hornton is too tall for me to initiate a kiss. Chat what should I do :(

♠️: Punch him in the gut and then kiss him when he doubles over

❤️: DUMP HIM YOU'RE NOT COMPATIBLE

🍎: Tackle him to the ground!

🤖: Do you want me to cut off his legs?

🐊: @DEUCE @ACE @EPEL @ORTHO SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN TONIGHT

🐊: 🌸, I WILL CARRY YOU. JUST INFORM ME WHEN.

🌸: Thanks Sebek, you're a real one!

🐺: Just ask him to lean down for you? What is wrong with everyone in this group chat?

[kinbedo]

Mercy on Me

Is this mercy? No mercy? So is this love?

Ajaw’s obnoxious nature makes it near impossible to talk to him. Unfortunately, being his neighbour, you bear the responsibility of maintaining at least the formalities with him. There seems to be a new addition in his house though— a new face that you haven’t seen before in the neighbourhood, and he’s somehow capable of bringing out the blonde’s softer side. Oh? That’s Ajaw’s cousin? 

Warnings: spoilers for Kinich's character story, mild bullying, misunderstandings, mentions of abuse, tba

Ajaw might feel a little ooc but I can't have him acting like the "Almighty Dragonlord" when he's attending school like a regular kid lol (he's still obnoxious though)

A written compilation of multiple incidences in your time of growing up alongside the Natlan crew but it’s a high school au.

Most parts are almost platonic, with very slight indications. But the parts under “Just for tonight, please extend it a little more” are intended to be romantic.

Most of these can be read in any order since they’re just a series of events, but certain parts will be highlighted separately and continuations of a previous part will be labelled ^^

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ

Featuring characters

 Introductions (wc: 1.1k)

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇʟᴛꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴꜱ

Summer Vacations — Two weeks in

Skating Rink

“Not ‘dad’, it’s ‘daaaaad’”

tba

ʀᴇᴍɪɴɪꜱᴄɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ

Middle School, a week before vacations

Middle School, Summer Vacations

tba

ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ

(the actual Kinich x reader part)

tba

Is this mercy? No mercy? So what is love?

main masterlist

[kinbedo]

Lilia: Yuu, you're under arrest.

Yuu: Wait, what? Why?

Lilia: For stealing Malleus' heart.

Malleus: Did you just hit on Yuu for me?

Lilia: I'm tired of WAITING, Malleus.

[kinbedo]

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are "just friends". and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible) word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

~

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan,

What are you doing here, Sae?

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

~

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

~

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

~

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

~

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

~

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

[kinbedo]

2:05 ──★ ˙ kinich ̟ !!

Hands twitching, sweat forming on his forehead, his breathing uneven, inhaling deeply and exhaling fast.

Kinich's eyes snap wide open, his body rapidly moving to sit up in bed. His hand clutches his shirt, right above his fast-beating heart, while he tries to catch his breath.

He can't remember the last time he saw a nightmare in his sleep.

Let alone one starring his father of all people.

One would think that after experiencing war, hunting saurians for a living, or even taking dangerous commissions for the right price, the last thing poking his subconscious would be the distant memory of his father.

“Baby?”

Kinich blinks as he slowly turns his gaze to his side, his eyes instantly falling onto your sleepy face.

“What's wrong?”

“It's... nothing...” He sighs, still sitting up, and turns to face ahead again. “Don't worry about it; go back to sleep.”

Although he could be a great liar under different circumstances, you frown, eyes searching his face, unconvinced by the shaky tone.

“Bad dream?”

A sudden wave of warmth washes all over him the moment he feels your soft hand caressing his back ever so gently. God, it's almost scary how even the simplest touch by you can have such an effect on him.

Feeling his mouth suddenly too dry, he nods slowly in response, his back still facing you.

“Wanna talk about it?”

This time, he shakes his head.

“Come here then.”

Puzzled by your words, Kinich turns around towards you, and his eyes soften instantly at the sight of you; your eyes are still half-lidded, fighting back sleep for his sake, a soft smile curling on your lips, and your hands spread open, inviting him into your embrace.

And like a little kid, Kinich lets himself lean closer to you, letting you wrap your arms protectively around his form.

His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and he breathes you in like he's been underwater for too long.

You smell like sleep.

Like safety.

Like home.

Your arms wrap around him slowly, deliberately. No sudden movements, no pressure, just warmth. Steady and quiet.

The kind of quiet he had never known growing up.

His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, knuckles brushing your spine. He says nothing, but his body speaks louder—how he presses in closer, how his chest trembles ever so slightly with every exhale.

You let him stay there. Let him take as long as he needs.

Kinich is already in your arms, but the distance between you still feels wide, like the dream hasn't quite let him go yet.

So you give him more to hold.

Your fingers slip beneath his, untangling the tight curl of his grip, threading yours through until they settle together, palm to palm.

He exhales slowly. Still too sharp at the end.

Your other hand finds the curve of his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheekbone in a silent rhythm. Not pushing. Not prying. Just saying, "I'm here." Again. And again.

“Still with me?” You murmur softly.

A beat. Then the faintest nod.

His voice comes next, rough and barely audible. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

You press your lips to his forehead. “I don't mind.”

His eyes close at the contact. He shifts in closer, like your touch pulled something loose in him, something tight and knotted now finally allowed to fall apart.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely louder than a breath. “He was there.”

You don't ask who. You already know.

Your thumb grazes his spine in slow circles. “And now he's not.”

A pause. You feel him swallow.

“You're here,” he says next, almost like he's reminding himself.

Your heart cracks open just a little more.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I'm here.”

His hand finds your waist. Gentle. Anchoring. He doesn't pull you closer; you're already as close as you can be. He holds on like he's afraid you might vanish too.

“You're safe. I've got you, I'm not going anywhere.”

That's all he needed.

No fixing. No unraveling. Just someone to stay.

Just you to stay.

Eventually, his breath evens out. His body softens against yours. And though sleep takes its time finding him again, it comes quieter this time. Easier.

Because this time, he's not waking up alone.

[kinbedo]

Thinking of overblot Malleus who, after putting Lilia into a "deeper" sleep, came to your dream and ended up getting so distracted while dancing with you that he realised Idia's plans a little too late.

[kinbedo]

just for tonight. —itoshi sae

cw. mdni! nsfw, long oneshot/short story, famous athlete!sae x princess!reader, emotional vulnerability, social expectations, mentions of public scrutiny and identity, one night stand, unprotected sex, mild intoxication, pull out game.

based on this request.

notes. i loved this idea so much, thank you for the request! also sae might be a little ooc here </3 just a disclaimer, the banner is nothing like the fic lol

synopsis. being a princess means fulfilling your duties, making the right choices, and hiding parts of yourself that don't fit the crown. but for one night, you let all of that go. no titles, no expectations. just you. what was meant to be a simple escape turns into something else entirely — a stranger, a connection, and a night too real to forget.

wc. 6.2k words, not proofread.

🎧 tracklist.ᐟ ── . ✦

track 01. out of the blue — rini track 02. a little death — the neighbourhood track 03. the one exists in my memories — dosii track 04. lucky — crying city track 05. starstarstar — dosii track 06. everything — the black skirts track 07. aphrodite — rini

you shouldn’t have slipped out. not tonight. not with a name like yours, not with cameras that could have hidden behind every tiki torch and wall just to catch a glimpse of your life. the weight of the crown never really left you, not even when it wasn’t on your head.

your suite was quiet.

quiet enough that your security team assumed you’d retired for the night — hairpins out, gown folded, pearls unclasped and returned to their velvet jewellery boxes. your personal assistant, your security team, every person in your orbit went back to their rooms by then, thinking you were tucked in with the same poised dignity you wore in every official photo.

no one stood guard outside your door tonight, for now at least. it was a five-star hotel after all, tucked into a private corner of a tropical city — the site of an upcoming discreet, invite-only fundraiser for the world’s most influential changemakers. it was the kind of place where privacy was expected, security was high, and reputations meant everything.

and you counted on that.

you waited until everything quieted down. until the hallways fell still. until your team was long gone and unpacking in their own rooms. only then you slipped out, dressed in something softer than silk, lighter than royal protocol. a thin off-white cotton two-piece that felt like freedom against your skin. not too formal, not too plain, and elegant in a way that didn’t try too hard — perfect for the beach.

your makeup was minimal, almost bare — soft lashes, glossy lips, light blush like you'd just come from the sun. your hair was down for once, brushing your shoulders gently with every movement. around your neck was a turquoise pendant that caught the light like seawater, and your sandals kissed the ground quietly with each step accompanied by the gentle swaying of the beach bag hanging on your shoulder.

you looked nothing like the girl from the morning briefings, you looked free.

and that was exactly the point.

the beach bar across the hotel caught your eye when you arrived earlier that day — glowing in the dusk with string lights and soft music, tucked beneath palm trees and kissed by the ocean breeze. so that was where you headed to, because even a princess had to let loose sometimes. even you needed a night, free from duties and expectations.

you slipped through the hotel’s side exit, crossing the path lined with palm trees and tiki torches, stepping into the beach bar’s golden haze.

and god, it felt good. so peaceful. a serene atmosphere.

the bar sat close enough to the water for the waves to be heard. the music was soft and easy, made for nights like this. the air smelled like citrus and saltwater, alongside waves that were crashing past the sand, blending in with the music and laughter in a quiet kind of harmony. it was the kind of place where people didn’t come to be seen — they came to disappear for a while.

no one spared you more than a glance when you stepped in, and you loved that.

you slid onto a stool at the bar, leaving one empty between you and the man who was already sitting there. he was dressed well — nothing flashy, but clean and sharp with a linen shirt and shorts suited for the occasion. he was good-looking, attractive in the way people noticed without meaning to. still, he didn’t look at you. not right away.

“first time here?” the bartender asked, smiling at you. “you look like you need something sweet.”

you nodded, smiling faintly. “and strong.”

he grinned. “i’ve got just the thing.”

you glanced towards the man beside you once, then looked away. he didn’t seem sad. more like... quiet. in the way people were when they were used to being alone, but didn’t mind company either.

your drink arrived in a cocktail glass with a paper-thin slice of something tropical on the rim. it sparkled under the bar lights.

that was when he turned to you.

“what’d you get?”

you blinked, then smiled. “no clue,” you said with a soft laugh. “but it’s pretty.”

he raised his glass slightly. “i’ll drink to that.”

you clinked yours against his, instinctive and warm. something about it cracked the space between you open — just a little.

“you don’t seem like you’re from around here,” he said, eyes meeting yours.

“and you?”

he tilted his head. “me neither.”

you didn’t ask for names, didn’t offer details. both of you just sat like that — two people with heavy lives and light drinks, swaying slowly towards a conversation neither of you expected.

you told him you liked the sea but didn’t get to visit often. he said he liked places like this because people left him alone, so you asked if he was hiding. he didn’t answer. instead, he asked if you were running. and you said maybe — just for the night.

“i don’t get to do this often,” you admitted quietly. “sit here. drink. talk to someone who doesn’t already know my name.”

his gaze softened. “in that case, i won’t ask.”

that earned him a real smile — one you hadn’t given anyone in a long time. “thank you.”

you took another sip, letting the alcohol in your cocktail slowly kick in. your legs brushed once against his, lightly — but you didn’t move, and neither did he. the conversation never stopped — like the world outside had paused just for this — for two strangers to connect.

eventually, one cocktail turned into two, with you leaning in closer. not much, just enough.

he asked about your worst drink ever. you told him about some godawful champagne at a fancy dinner that tasted like dish soap. you asked about his, and he muttered something about flaming shots. you laughed.

by the time you both had your third drink, your arms were touching, and it wasn’t by accident. by the fourth, your knees brushed and stayed. and by the fifth, neither of you were really listening to the music anymore. just to each other, to the way his eyes lingered a little longer, to the way your laugh made him smile without thinking. you lost count of how many drinks you’d had by then. you only knew that he was seeing you, the version of you no one ever saw. and when you looked at him, it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. it was something quieter. something that made you forget where you were, like he could help you escape from everything that was restricting you.

“you have that look,” he murmured, eyes gazing into yours.

“what look?”

“like tonight meant more than you expected it to.”

you swallowed. “doesn’t it?”

a pause. “yeah. it does.”

you both didn’t touch like strangers, didn’t talk like people who just met. it felt inevitable, like something you were always meant to find — just a little too late.

he smiled softly, eyes still locked on yours. “so… what happens now?”

you shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “maybe nothing. or maybe something.”

he leaned in just a little, voice low. “something sounds a lot better.”

you laughed quietly, “careful, you’re starting to sound like you want more than tonight.”

his gaze flickered, “maybe i do.”

so when you said, soft and slow, “well, this place is beautiful, but... i think i want to go somewhere quiet.”

he immediately understood what you meant. “my room’s quieter.”

you nodded like you hadn’t already made up your mind. you both knew that whatever this was, it was already too late to stop.

“shall we?” you asked, your voice soft, eyes glimmering with quiet invitation.

he held your gaze, a slow, knowing smile playing on his lips. “we shall.”

the walk back to the hotel was quiet, not awkward, not rushed. just... swaying.

you were both drunk, pleasantly so. it was the kind of drunk that softened the world’s edges, slowed everything down, and made the night feel warmer than it was. each step you took in the sand felt like the earth was holding you gently. the cool breeze blew past both of you — heavy with salt, citrus, and everything neither of you said.

your shoulders brushed once or twice, but neither one pulled away. your fingers dangled close, then tangled with each other’s without a word. the silence wasn’t empty — filled with every breath that got caught in your throat, with heartbeats loud in your chest, with the heat of skin aching for more.

the sea murmured behind you. and ahead, the hotel lights bloomed — low and golden.

stone steps rose to meet you, and the soft glow wrapped around your bodies as you moved, shoulder to shoulder. the hush of the night draped itself over you both — warm and heavy, brimming with something that felt like inevitability.

the elevator waited — polished metal, mirrored walls, and soft golden lighting that made shadows stretch and bend like something intimate. you both stepped in.

then — silence.

not the kind that was empty — the kind that was charged with unspoken desires.

you leaned back against the elevator wall first, lifting your gaze to meet his. like you dared him to close the space between you, or waited for him to try. he turned towards you, his hands immediately resting on your hips.

you didn’t speak, but he understood.

so he leaned in, close enough to catch your breath on his lips. slow — giving you the space to stop him.

but you didn’t.

your mouths met, warm and soft, all heat and control slipping away. your hands found the edge of his collar, dragging him closer. his hands moved gently, settling around your waist first, then sliding around your back.

it was as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you fall into him. so you made the decision for him — pressing yourself into his chest, lips parted, deepening the kiss like something real was trying to break through.

the elevator hummed around you, and a couple of floors ticked by.

he kissed you slowly, then rougher — like he was testing the tension you both held back all night. your laugh was quiet against his mouth, breathy and caught between kisses. he pulled back, just an inch, only to look at you like he tried to memorise the way you looked right then — flushed and glowing.

“what?” you murmured, breath warm against his jaw.

he smiled, low and crooked. “nothing.”

you kissed him again before he said more.

the doors dinged softly — his floor.

neither of you moved.

“you coming?” he asked, voice quiet but heavy.

your lips still brushed his as you answered, “of course.”

he reached for your hand again. and when the doors slid open, neither of you looked back.

his room was down the hall — you followed, your beach bag still hooked on your arm, the soft cotton of your outfit brushed against your skin with every step, sandals quiet on the plush carpet. his keycard beeped, the door unlocked, and for a second, you just... paused.

he held it open.

“you sure?” he asked, looking at you.

you met his gaze and nodded.

the door shut behind you with a quiet click.

his room was understated but luxurious — ocean-view balcony, dim lights, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to his shirt as he stepped towards you again. your back met the wall just beside the door, and this time, he gently pushed you against it. you didn’t pull away — instead, you leaned in, accepting the invitation.

he kissed you.

not rushed. not rough. just... deep and passionate. like he’d wanted to do this since the moment you laughed at the bar, since your knees brushed his under the counter and didn’t pull away.

his tongue parted your lips gently, and when you tilted your chin to meet him, you did it like you needed this moment — like it was the only thing that could make the night feel real. your arms slid around his neck, and his hands settled at your hips again like it was second nature. there was a quiet, desperate need in the way he held you.

he tasted like citrus and bourbon. you tasted like something sweeter. something softer. something that pulled a sound from his throat he didn’t try to hide.

when you parted, feeling breathless, he just murmured, “you really don’t do this often, huh?”

you smiled, lips flushed. “what gave it away?”

“you look like you’re barely holding yourself together.”

“maybe i am.”

then he kissed you again.

this time, even more passionately. your head spun, your heart thudded, and everything else faded — the world slipping further out of reach with every pull of his mouth on yours. you unbuttoned his shirt between kisses, your fingers delicate and cautious. like you weren’t used to taking. like you were afraid to ask for more.

and he lets you.

he lets you slide the fabric off his shoulders, lets you trail your hand across skin, bone and heat. and when your top slips over your head in return, skirt tugged down, when cotton joins linen on the floor, he looks at you like a secret he doesn’t want to give back to the world outside.

he touches you like you’re fragile, but kisses you like he knows you’re not.

"you’re beautiful," he breathed, arms wrapping around you, lifting you to the bed like he couldn’t stand to be away from your skin for even a second.

the bed was cool when your back hit it. the air kissed your bare thighs and made you shiver — until his body covered yours again, warm and solid, everything you needed.

his weight was careful. his hands were worshipping your body. you placed your palms on his shoulders, not to push, but to hold him close.

he rested his forehead against yours, voice low and tender. “this… feels like more than what it’s supposed to be.”

you looked into his eyes, the quiet weight of it settling between you. “yeah.”

he brushed a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering. “i don’t want to pretend it’s nothing.”

you gave a small, sad smile. “me neither.”

he sighed, almost reluctant. “then let’s just… be here, for tonight. everything else can wait.”

you nodded, heart heavy but open. “just for tonight.”

and in that moment, you both held onto what you had — fragile, fleeting, and maybe real.

you tugged at the waistband of his pants, pushing both fabric and restraint away. he helped you, groaning softly when your hands grazed him. and when he was bare above you, hard, thick and glistening at the tip, your breath caught.

you pressed your legs together, already aching, already wet. he noticed and gently parted them. his fingers trailed up your thigh — light and teasing, until they found the heat between your legs. he gently slid his fingers through your slick, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’d been aching for it.

"were you waiting for this all night?"

"since the bar," you whispered, barely audible.

he pressed his forehead to yours. smiled like he was drunk on you now, too. he kissed you again — all tongue and desire, as his fingers pumped in and out of you, slow and gentle.

you gasped — hand flying to his wrist, not to stop him, just to hold on.

“feel good?” he murmured.

“mmhm,” you nodded, wide-eyed, trembling. helpless.

his thumb rubbed slow circles against your clit, watching you melt under him — face flushed, back arching, mouth parting on soft, breathy sounds you didn’t know you could make. and when you were shaking, on the edge, he pulled back — just to press a kiss to your knee, your stomach, your collarbone.

“you’re gorgeous.”

you blinked through the haze, feeling dazed. “enough for you to do something about it?”

his eyes softened. “you don’t even have to tell me twice.”

he stroked himself once. then lined himself up, his tip nudging your entrance. the anticipation made you whimper.

"w— wait," you gasped, a hand on his chest.

his eyes searched yours.

"i’ll be gentle," he promised, voice tender. like he meant it.

you nodded.

he pushed in slowly, thick and deep. your jaw dropped as your body stretched to take him — clinging onto him desperately as your moans caught in the air, eyes fluttering shut. he was so warm inside you. so full. so perfect.

your walls fluttered around him. you were dizzy, drunk off the alcohol and pleasure. you wanted more, needed more.

“you can move,” you whispered, nails digging into his back.

and he did.

each thrust was deep, but gentle. his hips rolled into yours, his pace slow and patient. it was like he wanted this to last. like he wanted to remember how you felt.

his name was still unknown, but it didn’t matter. not here. not now.

his voice stayed close, murmuring into your skin — praises, curses and breathy sounds of pleasure. he told you how perfect you were, how gorgeous, how sweet. he called you beautiful over and over, like he was trying to make you believe it.

and when your eyes stung — when you didn’t even realise you were crying — he kissed the corner of your eye and whispered, "too much?"

you shook your head, legs wrapping tighter around him. "no… feels good. don’t stop.”

and he didn’t.

the room was filled with the quiet, breathy sounds you made together, every sigh and whisper drawing you closer — bodies slick with sweat, your moans stifled by his mouth, his kisses. the alcohol made everything warmer, your inhibitions melting into pleasure.

he fucked you like he meant it — like it mattered. like this was more than just a night, even though you both knew it wasn’t.

you reached your high first — hard, sudden, breath caught in your throat as your body clenched around him. your thighs shook, your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he groaned, desperate, and kissed you through it.

"just a little more, gorgeous," he breathed, rutting into your soaked, sensitive cunt. "m’almost there."

you nodded, your voice gone.

he pulled out at the last second with a low gasp, stroking himself. a breathless sound escaped him as he finished — warm and shaking, painting your skin with his release — across your stomach, your chest, your thighs.

the faint hush of waves through the window echoed throughout the room, alongside your shallow and uneven breaths for air. he collapsed beside you, neither of you speaking. his hand found yours, fingers locked in each other’s in silence.

there were still no names, just this — a night stolen from the world. from who you’re supposed to be. held tightly in his arms — entranced.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep — only that you woke to warmth. to his breath hitting your neck, and his arm draped loosely over your waist like he forgot to let go.

the room was dim, the sky outside still clinging to the night. everything was quiet — too quiet — with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the crack in the curtain.

your chest tightened.

you shifted carefully, peeling yourself from the moment like it was delicate. like it might break. his arm slid off your waist, slow and heavy. but he didn’t wake.

your phone buzzed somewhere on the floor.

security. reality.

the world was reminding you that this was never meant to last.

you paused. fingers hovering over his. you almost held on. almost.

but you didn’t.

you didn’t leave a note. just the soft dent in the pillow where your head had been. the faint scent of your perfume in his sheets. your warmth fading from the room. even your clothes felt unfamiliar now. his touch still lingered on your skin — gentle, like you were precious. he must’ve cleaned you up when you passed out — just the thought of it made your heart ache.

you glanced back to look at him one last time.

he was still asleep, face turned toward where you’d been. his hair was a mess. his chest rose and fell like nothing had changed.

but something had, and you knew it.

he didn’t know your name. you didn’t know his.

but for a few hours, it didn’t matter. you were seen. touched like you meant something. like you weren’t just a body, but a feeling. you pressed a hand to your chest, as if that might hold it in — that warm, breaking thing inside you.

then you left — quietly, lost in your own thoughts — a lingering ache of something that might’ve been real, if only the world had been kinder. but it wasn’t.

and so, he slept on, unaware. you hoped he’d forget the night you shared — just so you’d have a reason to do so as well.

but you knew you would remember this.

you already did.

you were barely through the hallway when you saw her — your personal assistant — pacing in front of your door, phone clutched white-knuckled in one hand, the other tugging anxiously at her sleeve. the moment her eyes landed on you, she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath all night.

“thank god,” she muttered, rushing forward. “where have you— wait, no, never mind, don’t answer.” she was already dialling someone. “cancel search. she’s back. tell everyone to stand down and return to their posts.”

you said nothing, just continued walking to your room door. she followed closely, still tense. the door clicked shut behind you both.

“where did you go? do you have any idea how reckless that was?” she started, voice low but urgent. “disappearing without a word? you had half your security team ready to report a breach. i didn’t know whether to call your bodyguards, your security detail, or the embassy—”

but then she stopped.

because you hadn’t said a word.

you were just standing there. still and silent. like the rush of adrenaline that got you here finally gave out and left you hollow, eyes unfocused, and shoulders heavy.

her words faltered. she stepped closer, concern softening the edges of her voice. “hey… are you okay?”

you nodded. barely. “i’m fine. nothing happened. i just needed a moment to clear my head — a walk, some air. that’s all.”

a pause.

she didn’t push. just sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “got it, you should rest. we’ve got the fundraising gala tomorrow and you know how brutal the press gets when you look tired.” she tried to joke, but her voice was gentle and careful.

you nodded again.

she lingered for a second longer, like she wanted to ask more. but instead, she turned to leave. “i’ll be right next door if you need anything, okay?”

then it went silent.

just you, with the weight of everything you left — and everything you couldn’t say. the door shut with a soft click, and for the first time since you left his room, you were alone.

you stood in the middle of your room — quiet, dim, holllow — and it hit you all at once. the absence. the ache. the press of a memory so vivid it felt like your lungs were shrinking.

you thought of him. never stopped.

his breath on your neck. the way he said you were beautiful, like it meant something. like you meant something.

his hands had moved like he was learning you — not just your body, but the shape of your silence, the weight of your gaze. he touched you like he’d been waiting to, not with urgency, but with reverence. and his kisses — god, his kisses — they were slow and consuming, the kind that stayed with you long after they were gone.

you could still feel the trace of his fingertips on your waist, the heat of his palm against your back. every part of you he touched still hummed with something quiet and aching.

you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

it was nearly 4am, but you moved through your routine like muscle memory — splashing cold water on your face, removing your makeup, brushing your hair back into place. you caught your reflection and barely recognised it. eyes still glassy. lips still swollen. skin warm like you’d been holding onto something too tightly.

you pressed your palms to the sink, taking deep breaths to calm yourself — but the memory of him lingered.

and beneath it all, there was a question you wouldn’t dare say aloud.

did it mean as much to him as it did to you?

you crawled into bed after turning the lights off. you didn’t close your eyes for a while. you just lay there — body still tender, chest still hollow — and let the silence swallow you whole.

eventually, hard-earned sleep found you.

you woke up in the afternoon. curtains drawn. sunlight dulled. and the room felt smaller than usual.

you didn’t leave the room, didn’t even feel like it. your security detail was tighter now — no more slipping past them unnoticed, not after last night. you heard the occasional knock outside, the muffled shuffle of guards switching shifts. everything was monitored again. controlled. exactly the way it was supposed to be.

except it wasn’t.

you weren’t supposed to be thinking about him, not like that. not like it mattered. but you were. constantly.

what would’ve happened if you stayed? if you turned and asked for his name, would he have told you? would it have ruined the magic, or made it something more?

and if he knew who you were — really knew — would he have looked at you the same way? or would he have shifted like the rest of them? careful smiles, measured compliments, all chasing your title, not your heart. would he have tried to touch your world, not you?

you didn’t know. you’d never know.

and that’s what made it worse.

night fell before your door opened again. your assistant stepped in with a tablet tucked under her arm and that tired look that said she hadn’t slept much either.

“princess,” she said softly. she didn’t ask how you were.

she just handed you the tablet. “the fundraising gala is tomorrow night. black tie, full press. you’ll be seated next to the ambassador from— well, doesn’t matter. i’ll walk you through it tomorrow.”

you nodded, fingers barely curling around the edge of the tablet.

she watched you a moment longer. worry flickered across her face again, but she didn’t press. “try to sleep early tonight, okay?”

you offered the ghost of a smile, returning the tablet to her. “i know, the usual routine.”

she nodded before she left.

and once again, you were alone. with the lingering warmth of a stranger’s kiss burned into your memory like it was something sacred.

the evening of the event, you stepped down from your suite just after eight — fashionably late by a few minutes, though nothing about you felt stylish. you felt fragile. tense. as if you’d glued yourself back together and were daring the cracks not to show.

your assistant walked a step behind, “you’ll be entering from the side corridor. ambassador to your right, foreign dignitaries in the first two rows. press is stationed at the far end — all vetted, no surprise questions. everything has been checked and pre-cleared accordingly.”

you nodded, even though you weren’t really listening. not to the logistics. not to the orchestration of your every step.

you were thinking about him. yes, still.

the ballroom doors opened before you — slow, ceremonial — and the moment you stepped through, it was like time stretched thin.

chandeliers glittered overhead. waitstaff in white gloves glided between guests. crystal glasses clinked. laughter, rehearsed and refined, danced over classical strings.

and every head turned.

you felt the weight of their gazes. a hundred little assessments. elegance, poise, legacy — you wore them all like a second skin.

silk draped around you in a soft champagne hue, jewelled at the neckline. your pearl headpiece sat like moonlight in your hair. nothing out of place. nothing unprepared.

but your heart beat too loud. too fast.

you made your way down the grand staircase, movements fluid and trained. a soft smile — diplomatic, controlled — was fixed on your lips.

until you saw him.

he was already looking at you.

at first, it didn’t register — just another tailored suit in a sea of wealth and power.

but then your eyes landed on his.

his ocean eyes, dark and endless like an abyss, locked onto yours — a gaze that saw right through the surface, as if he was the only one who truly saw you.

and everything inside you went still.

the same storm-colored gaze. the same sharp jaw, kissed once along the edge in a room you never meant to leave. you almost missed a step. your smile faltered — just slightly — and he saw it.

you knew he did.

his expression didn’t change, not really. but there was something in the way he looked at you. like he was remembering. like he knew.

you were the girl from the bar.

the one who disappeared.

and you… you were realising it too.

he wasn’t just some quiet boy with careful hands and ocean eyes. he was the ache you couldn’t place — the way his touch felt like a promise, the way his silence spoke louder than words. not just a secret you left behind between silk sheets, but the kind of memory that clings to your skin long after the night is gone.

before you could gather your thoughts, a voice cut through the crowd — warm, familiar, and tinged with admiration. a distinguished man approached him with a warm smile, clasping his shoulder.

“itoshi sae! great to see you here! your presence truly elevates the evening.” the way the host greeted him, with enthusiasm and respect, made it clear that he wasn’t just anyone — he was a guest of honour.

suddenly, it all made sense — why he carried himself like that, why his build was unmistakably athletic. he wasn’t just another guest. he was someone the world watched.

so he was itoshi sae. football royalty. spain’s golden boy.

your steps resumed — slower now. unshakeable. you lifted your chin, reclaimed your mask. the space between you stretched, taut with things unsaid. you took your seat beside the ambassador, nodded at your cue, and sipped from a champagne flute you didn’t remember lifting.

speeches began. applause followed. you laughed where you were supposed to. tilted your head at the right angles for cameras. you talked with politicians and smiled through hollow compliments.

but your eyes eventually found his again — across the room — lingering near the press section alone. he wasn’t trying to talk to anyone. he wasn’t even pretending. he was just watching you.

you excused yourself politely after the second course, murmuring something about air. your assistant followed, but at a distance. you moved to the balcony just off the ballroom. it was cooler out here, quieter — just how you liked it.

you needed a moment alone to clear your thoughts, but he found you.

you felt him before you saw him — a quiet shift in the air, that same scent that clung to his sheets and your skin. unforgettable.

you turned around.

and there he was, standing there in a black tie, shirt collar undone just slightly. like he got tired of pretending, too.

“so you were a princess,” he said.

you wanted to force a smile. you wanted to cry. but you did neither.

“did you know who i was?” you asked quietly, “before tonight? before the ballroom?”

he shook his head. “i didn’t. but i had a feeling you weren’t just anyone when we met at the bar. then earlier when you walked in… i didn’t know your title.”

he paused.

“i just knew it was you. the you i spent the night with. not the princess.” his eyes gazed back into yours, a glint of sadness showing.

“how…?” your voice caught, the question unfinished.

his smile was faint. bitter. “i think i knew the moment i saw you again.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. so you said nothing.

the silence between you stretched. not uncomfortable — just… heavy. like grief. or longing. or the whisper of something that never got the chance to become more.

“you left,” he said, same as before.

“i had to,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.

you hesitated.

“you understand,” you added. like you were asking him to. like you needed him to.

he nodded, his eyes still full of something else that you couldn’t quite name. “i do now.”

your fingers tightened around the balcony rail.

his voice was lower then. gentler. “was it real?”

you looked at him.

“that night,” he continued, “was it just… a moment? or did it mean something?”

you hesitated. the words sat heavy on your tongue. you could’ve lied. it would’ve been easier.

but instead, you whispered, “of course it was real. it meant… everything.”

you looked away as the truth settled between you, raw and irreversible. it was always going to hurt — because it had been real.

but he exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for hours. maybe he had.

you both stood there, caught in a silence too heavy for strangers and too fragile for lovers. you both were two strangers who knew each other too intimately to be nothing.

he took a small step closer — slow and careful, like you were about to break.

but you didn’t flinch, meeting him halfway.

“come back inside,” he said softly. not a command. not even a question. just hope, stretched thin between syllables.

your throat tightened.

“they’re watching,” you said, voice low.

it was a truth you couldn’t escape. the price of the life you lived.

but he didn’t look away. he didn’t pretend it didn’t matter.

he only nodded, quiet and sure. “i know.” and in that quiet, he told you everything. he wasn’t asking you to choose, he was offering to stand beside you — whatever that meant. however far.

you blinked. your voice was barely above a whisper. “i’m not just anyone. you know that.”

his gaze didn’t waver. “you never were,” he said, like it was obvious. like it was fact.

another breath, another moment. the whole world felt like it was tipping.

then you let go of the railing.

he offered his hand. not like a prince. not like a politician. just like a boy, asking a girl for one more chance — like he had nothing to prove — only everything to give.

so you took it.

because in that moment, it didn’t feel like surrender. it felt like choosing yourself.

and him.

inside, the music swelled again — something slow, romantic, dipped in old-world charm.

heads turned when you re-entered together, hand in hand, but neither of you looked away.

you stepped onto the dance floor and his hand found your waist as your fingers rested lightly on his shoulder. you moved in sync, effortlessly, like the night you shared had already taught your bodies how to find each other.

nothing else mattered. not the cameras. not the titles. not the long list of reasons why this was a bad idea.

just him. just you. just this.

your assistant was somewhere in the corner, probably freaking out. the ambassador blinked in stunned silence. a few diplomats whispered behind gloved fingers.

but you were smiling. really smiling.

and he looked at you like you hung the stars. like you were precious. like he’d follow you anywhere — if only you asked.

“so what now?” you murmured.

he spun you gently, then caught you again.

“i fly back to madrid in a few days,” he said.

your smile softened. “and i fly to london next week for another event.”

he nodded. “i’ll wait. or whatever you need. i think we can figure something out.”

you raised an eyebrow, teasing. “long-distance?”

his gaze didn’t waver. “if it’s with you… i’ll make it work.”

you laughed — real and unguarded — while his smile deepened like he’d never heard anything more beautiful.

the music slowed. your foreheads touched. you didn’t say anything else. you didn’t need to. because whatever this was — whatever impossible, chaotic, once-in-a-lifetime thing sparked between you — it was real.

you stayed like that until the last note faded. and when the song ended, neither of you let go. maybe others knew. maybe they watched, whispered, speculated. but you didn’t care. you just wanted more time with him. not as a princess, just as you.

because somehow, even after knowing who you were, he didn’t look at you like royalty.

he looked at you like you were real.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[kinbedo]

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

5k words pwsp, face riding/sitting, pussy eating, subby/bottom sae. errr basically he’s down bad for ur kitty and is obsessed w/you.

sae itoshi isn't the type to do grand gestures. he doesn't believe in clichés or over the top romance. but today, he walks with you in silence, hands in his pockets, that same bored expression on his face, though his steps are slower, like he's trying to match your lazy pace.

you don't question it when he pulls open the door to a sleek, minimalistic jewelry store. the kind with glass cases, soft lighting, and prices no one talks about out loud.

"what are we doing here?" you ask, glancing around.

"looking." he says, short and vague, like always. but you can see the way his eyes dart across the displays, landing on one case in particular.

he doesn't ask for help. just walks straight over and stares down at a ring. simple. gold. nothing flashy. just elegant enough to catch the light. and when you peer over his shoulder from behind, curiosity bubbled in your chest. "for your mom or something?"

he doesn't answer. instead, he nods curtly towards the attendant, and just says, "that one."

the woman behind the counter lifts it carefully and asks if he would like to have it gift wrapped, but all he does is casts you a quick side glance, his expression unreadable.

"no," he says. "she'll be wearing it out."

your head snaps up as you blink. "what?"

sae finally turns to look at you, and that's when you see that flicker of something behind those icey blue eyes of his. something unspoken. he takes the ring before gently reaching out for your hand. his touch is soft as he lightly traces your knuckles.

"just wear it," he mutters, sliding it onto your ring finger. "you don't have to say anything."

it fits perfectly, and you really don't know what to say as you trail behind him when he approaches the register, the soft click of his shoes echoing through the otherwise quiet boutique. he pulls out his black card like it's nothing, like it doesn't scream power and wealth and a life far removed from the normal lifestyle.

the cashier takes it with two inviting hands, overly polite, overly cautious. she also flutters her long eyelashes and bites her plump lip, but you don't care enough to comment on her overly flirtatious attitude, and neither does he. you say nothing, instead just standing there, staring at the expensive ring now on your finger.

he doesn't look at you while he signs the receipt, he just accepts the small bag she hands him with the box inside, the one the ring would've come in, then tosses it to you without looking.

"keep it." he says, and you catch it clumsily, the bag crinkling in your hand.

outside, he doesn't wait. just walks ahead with that slow, bored saunter of his, like he didn't just do something incredibly intimate in the most casual way possible.

"you always this quiet after buying a girl a ¥300,000 ring?" you ask, jogging to catch up.

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "don't need to buy anyone anything."

"so why me?"

he shrugs. "because you're mine."

you go quiet, hating how your heart beats faster in your chest. stupid sae...

"you gonna run now?" he asks, voice low.

you look down at the ring. turn it once, then twice, examining the shine of the jewel.

"...no." you reply after a small pause.

he doesn't smile out right, but you catch the twitch of his lip. just the barest hint, and for someone like sae, that's practically a confession in itself.

the walk back to his car is quiet, but it's not all that uncomfortable. his fingers brush yours a few times, like he's debating whether or not to hold your hand. he doesn't though. typical sae. always wanting, never asking.

you sit in the passenger seat of his sleek, black mercedes benz, the city lights sliding over his delicate face like soft curtains as he navigates through the streets. you catch him glancing at you a few times as he drives, nothing too obvious, just that subtle, sidelong look he thinks you won't notice.

you finally decide to speak up after some awkward silence when he pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, "you didn't even ask if i liked it."

he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, eyes on the gate as it's slowly being opened by the security. "didn't need to."

"what if i didn't?"

"you did... you do."

you scoff under your breath, but you don't take the ring off. you haven't stopped turning it on your finger since he put it there. when he pulls into the parking garage under his building, neither of you move for a second. the car engine ticks as it cools down, the quietness becomes heavy between you.

"so," you say, voice light. "what now? am i supposed to move in or something? cook you dinner, massage your shoulders?"

he looks at you, almost like he's trying to see something beneath your skin.

"...preferably, but you can do whatever you want," he says, leaning back in his seat. "except taking the ring off."

"is that a rule?"

"it's a warning."

you raise a brow. "so you're threatening me now?"

"no." his voice drops a little. "just... don't want to lose you."

the walk through the garage is quick, and the elevator ride feels like a blur, the soft hum of the machinery barely audible between the tension thickening the air. sae stands just a bit too close, his shoulder grazing yours as he presses the button for the floor. he doesn't need to say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like he's measuring you, trying to see if you'll pull away or stay in his space.

when the elevator dings, the doors open to reveal his apartment, and it's exactly what you expect, luxurious, pristine, almost unnervingly perfect. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, casting a glow that makes the place look like something out of a movie. everything is so clean, so meticulously placed.

even the air smells expensive, it's almost intoxicating, a sharp contrast to your own home scent which is filled with laundry detergent and fresh food, but it's not entirely unwelcoming. it just feels like the kind of space where you're meant to be admired.

he holds the door open for you, just a small gesture, but there's an undeniable possessiveness in it. like he's claiming the space and now he's claiming you too. you step inside, taking in the layout with a curious gaze.

everything is in its place. the living room is sleek, with low leather sofas and a wall of glass that overlooks the city below. a few paintings hang in carefully chosen spots, but none of them draw your attention as much as the emptiness of the room. he's a minimalist. or maybe just hasn't had the time to go furniture shopping after returning from spin.

sae closes and locks the door behind him, stepping into the apartment like it's nothing new, but you can see the way his body tenses. it's almost like he's waiting for your approval, waiting to see what you think of his space.

"make yourself at home." he says, it sounding more like a command than an offer.

you nod, taking a seat on the couch, not exactly sure what to do with yourself in this perfectly curated world of his. you trace the edge of the coffee table, running your fingers over the smooth surface. everything about this place screams power and control, but you don't feel like you belong here. not yet, anyway.

sae, however, doesn't sit down. he stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on you.

"you like it?" he asks, voice soft but serious, like he needs the validation from you.

"it's nice," you say casually, glancing around. "a little... sterile."

he chuckles under his breath, walking over to the bar and grabbing himself a drink. sae was more accustomed to pouring himself a glass of whiskey than to catering to the needs of guests. "i... don't like clutter."

you watch him move and the easy confidence with which he handles himself. but there's a tension in the way he stands. like there's something he's trying to keep under control, something he's not showing you just yet.

"you don't like a lot of things." you sigh, trying to break the ice, even if it's just a little.

he looks at you over his shoulder, a faint smile curling on his lips. "you'd be surprised."

for a moment, you almost want to ask what exactly he's trying to hide, what's underneath all the wealth, the luxury, the polished exterior. but instead, you just lean back against the couch and let the silence settle between you. something tells you that he'll show you eventually.

he moves over and sits beside on you couch like he doesn't know what to do with himself, elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward, eyes flickering toward you every few seconds before darting away again. for once, itoshi sae doesn't look like the calculated prodigy everyone sees on the field. he looks... awkward, and... lame.

his fingers brush against your side, ghosting over the hem of your shirt. not enough to grab, just enough for you to feel the contact. and he keeps doing it, like he's testing the waters, seeing how far he can go before you pull away. he's not cocky now. not smug. he's quiet. careful. and when his knuckles bump against your hip, he finally wraps his fingers around the fabric, not tightly, but like he needs something to hold onto.

you glance at him, and his eyes meet yours for a split second before he looks away again, jaw tense. he's trying so hard to keep his cool, but his foot is bouncing ever so slightly against the floor, and his grip on your shirt tightens the longer the silence stretches.

"you're weird tonight." you murmur.

he exhales a soft laugh, barely a breath. "you're in my house."

"so?"

"you've never been here before." his voice is low, almost like it's something he's been thinking about all night. "it feels different."

you raise an eyebrow. "different how?"

he shrugs, still playing with the hem of your shirt. "don't know. just... like you belong here."

you blink, thrown off by the way he said it. so quietly. so honestly, and now he's looking at you again. eyes sharp but unsure, like he wants to say something else but doesn't know how.

you shift a little closer, and he doesn't move away. his hand slides up your waist, like he's waiting for you to stop him. but you don't, so he keeps going, hand resting just at the curve of your side. he's watching your face for a reaction, lips parted like he's about to say something, then decides against it.

"you can do more than just play with my shirt, y'know." you whisper.

his ears go a little red. and then finally, his expression shifts. that familiar spark returns, just a flicker of confidence in his eyes. his hand tightens, and he pulls you a little closer, his voice low and rough.

"don't say that unless you mean it."

he leans in slightly, his breath brushing against your cheek, and for a moment, you think he might pull away again. but he doesn't. his hand slides up your side, fingertips grazing the edge of your shirt before he hesitates, just for a second. the uncertainty is still there, but there's a heat building between you two, like everything he's been holding back is finally getting too much to contain.

you're so close and the tension is almost unbearable. his lips part as if he's about to speak, but the words die in his throat when you move closer, just enough to close the gap. sae's gaze darkens, pupils widening as his breath hitches, the moment stretching like it's going to break any second.

then, before either of you can think twice, he's kissing you. it's rough at first, his hand moving quickly to your neck, pulling you into him like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. his lips are warm and hungry, and it's all a little messy, but it's real. there's a desperation to it, a need you haven't seen much of from him before.

you respond, your own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your fingertips. sae's body presses into yours, as if there's no space between you left to breathe. he deepens the kiss, his fingers griping the back of your neck, tugging you closer as though he can't get enough of you. you feel him shiver against you, like he's struggling to keep his composure, like he wants to be in control, but you're slowly taking that power from him, and he's completely fine with it.

his kiss becomes softer for a moment, more tender, as if he's realizing that this is actually happening. that he's not just imagining it. he pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, eyes dark with desire but also... something else. something deeper.

"fuck," he mutters, almost to himself. "you drive me fucking insane."

you hum softly, fingers brushing against the side of his sharp jaw. "mm? kind of embarrassing, honestly..."

he chuckles, that small, familiar arrogance returning to his face, but there's still a hint of vulnerability. "can't help it when it's you."

you're both breathless now, but for the first time in a long time, you don't need to say anything. the silence between you speaks volumes. and in that moment, you realize that whatever this is, whatever he is, it's not just about playing soccer together anymore.

sae breathed softly as he felt your body nestle against his own, your frame fitting perfectly into the hard planes of his lap. he could feel the soft swell of your breasts pressed against his firm chest, and the warmth of your breath mingling with his own as you gazed down at him through your pretty lashes

"god... you're so fucking beautiful..." he murmured, his voice a low whisper. sae couldn't take his eyes off you, his teal gaze drinking in every detail of your face, the arch of your eyebrows, those glossy lips that parted slightly as if inviting him to kiss.

he knew he should slow down, should give you time to adjust to his devotion, but the feel of your body so close to his own was intoxicating, and he found himself powerless to resist the pull he had towards you.

slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned in closer, his breath mixing with yours as he hovered just an inch away from your lips. "tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "tell me you don't want this, and I will." he searched your eyes, his own gaze intense and demanding. "but if you don't..."

"...if i don't?"

he felt a thrill run through him at your breathless whisper, the way your lips parted slightly as if in anticipation of what he has to offer.

"if you don't..." he murmurs, his voice a low and seductive rumble. "then i'm going to bend you over this couch and—" he sucks in a breath.

instead of finishing, his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you closer against him. you could feel the hard, muscular tone of his body, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. his other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a soft caress.

"just... tell me you want it too," sae breathes, his eyes searching yours. "tell me you crave me much as I crave you." he was so close now, his lips a mere whisper away from your own. "let me worship you as you deserve to be worshipped."

with that, he closed the remaining distance between you, his mouth capturing yours in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent up longing and desire, of a hunger that could only be tamed by the taste of your lips. his kiss was demanding and insistent, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth to claim you fully as his own.

"ah.. s-sae..."

he groaned softly against your mouth as he heard you breathe out his name, the sound sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to his pants. his hand slid from your spine to hold the back of your head and deepen the kiss. he licked into your mouth, his tongue stroking along yours that left you both breathless and aching.

his other hand slid down to the hem of your top, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to caress the bare skin of your lower back. he could feel the heat of your body radiating against his own, and it made his fucking head spin.

he pulled back slightly, his chest heaving as he gazed up at you with eyes dark and heavy lidded. "get up. now," he growled, his voice rough with need. without waiting for a response, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the hallway that led to what you assume to be his bedroom.

the room was dark, the only light coming from the glowing madrid night skyline visible through the floor to ceiling windows. sae kicked the door shut behind him before carrying you to the large, king sized bed that dominated the entire space. too big for one person.

he set you down gently on the soft mattress, his body covering yours as he settled between your parted thighs. sae hovered over you, his eyes blazing with intensity as he gazed down at your face.

"[name]..." he breathed, his voice a low murmur. his hand slid up your side, his fingers skimming over the curves of your breast before cupping the soft mounds in his large, calloused palm. he could feel your nipple hardening beneath the thin fabric of your top, and it made his crotch tighten in his jeans.

"tell me what you want," he urged softly, his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast. "tell me how to please you, and I will."

"..." you swallow, idly tracing his knuckles with your fingers. "anything you want, sae."

a small, shuddering breath fell from his parted lips at at your quiet murmur, a glint of pure satisfaction in his eyes. "fuck yes..." he pretty much sobbed, and without warning, lunged forward and captured your lips in another kiss. his mouth moved demandingly over yours, his tongue delving deep past your teeth.

his hands slid down to the hem of your top, yanking it up and over your head in one impatient motion. he tossed it carelessly to the floor, his gaze drinking in the sight of your newly exposed skin with a hunger that made your heart pound.

"fuck... you're so perfect." he breathed, his large hands cupping the soft swells of your breasts. he tested their weight, squeezing gently as he leaned down to press open mouthed kisses along the smooth flesh. his tongue flicked out to circle your stiffening nipple, teasing the sensitive peak until it strained towards his touch.

his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling greedily as his hand slid down the plane of your stomach. his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pants, teasing along the edge of your panties.

he could feel the heat radiating from you, could sense the dampness that had begun to gather at the juncture of your thighs. it made his cock throb in his boxers, his own arousal growing more unbearable by the second.

"fuck, sweetheart, i—" he groaned against your breast, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "i wanna taste you... please..."

his fingers pushed your panties aside, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive nub, and at the same time, he nipped and sucked at your nipple. so hard it almost made you want to tell him that you couldn't produce milk. lmao

sae's fingers slid lower, brushing against your slit before, without any warning, shoved one deep inside your tight heat, and groaned at the feel of you. so hot and ready for him as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt relentlessly.

your thighs clench around his hand, dropping your head back a small mewl falls from your lips. it... hurts. sae isn't go slow in the slightest, with his knuckles grinding against your clit with each fast thrust of his fingers. thankfully, he's not wearing those rings that he likes to send you photos of on his veiny hands.

"...want to sit on my face?"

your eyes flutter open after having them screwn shut as his fingers stretch open your insides. "h-huh?"

he let out a choked shudder, those gorgeous eyes of his almost glossy. "ride my face. please... i want it so bad— need it."

"..." you swallow, gripping the sheets under your shaking hands. "...yeah? i can?"

his head snapped up at your hesitant question, eyes glistening. "yes," he coos, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "god, yes, you can."

he urged you up his body, his hands gripping your hips as he lies back against the pillows and guided you to straddle his face, the feel of your crotch hovering so close to his mouth making his head spin, making his dizzy.

"you're going to sit on my face," he shuddered, his breath hot against your folds. "and... and you're gonna ride my tongue until you're all i taste for the next week... please."

sae's hand slid to your thigh, his fingers digging into the soft skin as he spread your legs wider apart, baring you completely to his eyes. he could see the glistening evidence of your arousal, and the way your juices had begun to coat the skin on your inner thighs. "goddd... so fucking wet," he breathed, his voice just a low whisper. "so ready for me, aren't you, baby?"

his fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, a low groan of frustration escaping his lips as he struggled to free himself from the confining denim. his erection was borderline painful, and his aching cock was straining against the zipper and demanding to be released. to be touched. "oh... fuck sake—"

after a small, one sided tussle that he almost lost, he finally manages to yank the button open, freeing his straining hard on from his too tight pants. he shimmies his hips, and with the help of the mattress, is able shove his jeans the rest of the way down his thighs. instantly, his hand is cupping the thick bulge of his cock, squeezing his length through the thin and damp fabric of his calvin klein boxers.

"sit down." he pants, gazing up at you over your pelvis through his glittering lashes, "sit like a chair... don't— don't ask if i can breathe. just sit down."

his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, urging you down, down, until the first swipe of his tongue parted your glistening folds and he groaned long and low against your core.

"fuck, mm— you taste—" he sobs, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your sensitive insides. "i could eat this pretty cunt for, mmfph— h-hours..."

he sealed his mouth over your clit and suckled hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bundle of nerves. at the same time, he thrust his tongue deep inside your walls, fucking you with the slick appendage as he drank down your juices like a man who had been denied water for months.

sae's free, trembling hand slid around to grip the globe of your ass, urging you to grind harder against his mouth. he could feel your thighs trembling against his face, could hear the breathless little moans and cries that spilled from your lips as his tongue fucked you relentlessly.

he couldn't hold back the guttural moan that tore from his throat when he slipped past the waistline of his underwear and finally freed his aching cock from the pocket of his boxers. the thick and twitching shaft sprang out, slapping against his abdomen and leaving a small smear of pre cum on his skin.

sae groaned around your clit as he felt your body start to tremble above him, your muscles tensing and fluttering. he could sense the way your hips began to undulate, grinding your dripping core against his mouth and nose as if seeking more of his touch.

"mhm— that's it, baby," he squeezes his eyes closed tight, tears pooling on his lash line. "so fffucking good f'me..."

his fingers dug into the cheek of your ass, kneading the muscle as he pulled you harder against his face like he wanted to consume you, to devour you whole, to make you his in every way that was humanly possible.

at the same time, he could feel his own release building, his cock throbbing hard and hot in his grip as he stroked himself in time with the frenzied movements of his tongue. so close, so fucking close, and he knew you were too.

the way your walls began to flutter around his invading muscle, the way he could taste the first gush of your arousal as it flooded his mouth. he whimpered pathetically, his hips bucking up into nothing as his hand erratically pumped up and down his red and angry cock.

"gmmm... gonna cum—" despite his words being muffled by your sex, you hear the pure and animalistic tone in his words. you reach down between your quivering thighs and tangle your fingers in his sweaty hair, tugging on the burgundy strands slightly.

he sobs, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at you hazily through his begging eyes. "p-please, fill up my mouth—" he pleads, nails digging into your skin hard enough to indent some moon shaped crescents into your flesh.

you grip the headboard and stare down at him over the slope of your breasts, biting the inside of your cheek as he begs pathetically for you to orgasm. this... this is japan's prodigy? this boy, humping the air and fucking his hand as he goes to town on the city between your legs? this boy?

"s-sae..." you murmur, slightly embarrassed by the small tremor in your tone. you swallow, lifting your hips off his face slightly. and he looks like he's about to cry as his mouth is forcefully unlatched from your pussy, but he doesn't get the chance to when you wordlessly drop back down and grind your folds against his mouth and nose.

that's all it takes.

a raw and somewhat pitiful sound raptures from his scratchy throat, and with a few more pumps from his hand, sae is cumming. hard.

"fuck— oh fuckkkk—!"

his entire body was coiled tight, every muscle drawing up as he teetered on the rope of ecstasy, he cried out, his hips bucking wildly as his orgasm overtook him. thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head of his cock, splattering his chest and abdomen as he rutted his hips against his own hand. some of it even manages to squirt against your back.

tears finally begin to leak from his eyes, gliding down his pale, flawless cheeks and staining the silk pillow underneath his head. his chest heaves under you, his mouth still latched onto your clit.

you stare down at him, eyes slightly narrowing at the sight of his limp and pliant body. "um, e-excuse me...?"

he hums at your quiet words, eyes flickering up, now only lazily flicking his tongue against your salvia coated folds. his hand is still gripping your ass, but much less harshly than before. his fingers are lightly caressing the marks he had given you. "mm, baby? so good, thank you..."

you shake your head, tugging his hair and emitting a small groan from his lips. "w-what...? what'd i do..?" he whispers, only barely audible from under you.

"...it's not what you did..." you scoff. "it's what you didn't do."

there's visible confusion in his hazy eyes, and he lightly taps your hip in a silent question.

"...you haven't made me cum yet."

he blinks. a deeper red hue spreading over his already flushed face. "f— oh..." he gulps, eyes flickering down to your cunt resting on his chin, then back up to your expecting look.

he nods. "y-you're right... m' sorry." he murmurs, releasing his cock, which thuds against his abdomen, still red and leaking, so he can place both hands on your ass. he squeezes the flesh in his palms, kneading it under his calloused fingers.

"sorry, baby..." he repeats, tilting his chin up and pressing his nose back against your dripping core.

"let me... let me fix that."

[kinbedo]

(wc: 1k)

Thinking of actor au! Kinich who prefers action-filled roles.

actor au! Kinich who doesn't express it, but is always glad when he gets to play a role in a thriller.

actor au! Kinich who turns down all offers for a romantic show, before even reading through the letters he receives from the directors. Why would he need to pretend to be in love with someone when he already has you?

actor au! Kinich who hates that the directors and script-writers think that he's the only one suitable to play the romantic interest, even when he's supposed to be playing the nonchalant grey character.

actor au! Kinich who absolutely hates it when he's informed that the kiss scene will be recorded the next day.

actor au! Kinich knows that he needs to do the scene properly, lest they make him repeat it over and over. And he doesn't want to even try kissing someone else once, forget about the re-takes.

actor au! Kinich who uses the kiss scene he has next day as an excuse to "practice" with you, trying his best to make his kisses seem convincing without getting too close to you.

actor au! Kinich who doesn't even realise how he's teasing you with the way his lips just barely hover over yours, his face inclined one side to cover up the fact that he's not actually kissing you— just pretending that it's happening.

actor au! Kinich who is fully aware of the way you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes, silently begging him to kiss you for real at least once. He can see your silent pleas clearly through the mirror, and yet he refuses to acknowledge it, only focusing on perfecting his act.

"Was this really convincing enough?"

"I feel like I might have gotten too close for my comfort there, let's try again."

And then he's already leaning in again, his hot breath fanning over your swollen lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for Kinich to leave you craving for more for the nth time that evening.

actor au! Kinich who drags out his "practice" a bit longer than necessary, just because he loves seeing your reactions in the mirror.

actor au! Kinich who makes his boundaries be known the minute he sees his co-actors, letting everyone in the room know that he wasn't going to tolerate any advances in the name of shooting a scene.

actor au! Kinich who does put last night's practice into good use, perfectly getting through the scene in one go. You're standing in a corner watching it play out, and you can't help but feel sorry for the co-actor for being left like that by Kinich— after all, you know how painful it was, how your boyfriend was so painfully teasing with his hovering kisses.

actor au! Kinich who often has to learn and practice some rather risky exercises for some of his more action-filled scenes. Even just seeing the instructor tighten the ropes to prevent accidents makes your stomach drop. What if the ropes break? What if he gets hurt? What if these ropes fail to prevent any accidents?

actor au! Kinich who spends a little longer with you that night, reassuring you that he's alright, that he got through the day without any accidents. He holds you closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. He was never one to be bothered by extreme sports, but he knows that you're scared for him, and he truly appreciates your concern because it makes him feel cared for.

actor au! Kinich who sometimes takes you to the nearby park at night, when no one else is there in the playground. His legs are strong enough to support him as he hangs upside down from the monkey bars. "Come closer" he calls out to you, and you comply only to be caught in a kiss. His hands find their way around your neck, threading through your hair while one of your hands reach up to tangle in his hair.

He pulls you closer by your neck, deepening the kiss. Your view is blocked by his black hair. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are scrunched up in focus, trying to maintain his balance (it would be embarrassing if he fell after trying to pull this stunt).

actor au! Kinich who breaks the kiss to whisper "I hope this makes up for making you practice with me that night" just to dive in again, softer this time, but just as meaningful.

actor au! Kinich who lowkey tries to convince the director to give you a minor, two scene role of his love interest instead of pairing him with someone else. If you're okay with it, he'd much rather have his character have a subtle love interest mentioned only once or twice. That could keep the audience engaged and craving for more, no?

actor au! Kinich who would ensure that you're never uncomfortable with any part of his work, opting to drop his role entirely for you instead. "This role requires the confession to become a bit hea-" and he's out, neither is he comfortable with it, nor does he want to make you feel uncomfortable about it. If it's his safety that you're worried about, then he is extra careful during shooting to assure you that he will be fine.

actor au! Kinich who knows that what he has with you isn't an act, and who cherishes his reality with you more than anything else in the world.